Pulse
by shadowkissed-rachel
Summary: AU - All human. Rose is a government agent in a world ravaged by an Event whose origins are unknown. She is forced to work with Vasilisa, a girl plagued by darkness, to uncover the truth of what happened. Will Rose succeed? Or will she lose sight of her goals and endanger her mission when she falls in love with Dimitri?
1. Chapter 1

**AU – All human**

_**Vasilisa - **_

I usually don't mind the darkness, I've grown up in it. My uncle, Victor, tells me that we are living in a dark age, and that we must adapt. I try to be brave for him, he has enough to worry about. He shouldn't have to concern himself with the anxieties that plague his 17 year old niece. And so I've learned to live in darkness.

But it's moments like right now, when I'm seized by night terrors, that I find the darkness to be suffocating. It envelopes my body, seeping into my skin through my pores. Sweat beads have formed on my brow, despite the chilly autumn air that has filled my room. My breathing is shallow and irregular, my chest tight. I begin counting backward from one hundred.

_100, 99, 98…_

I have one small lamp in my bedroom, it sits on the nightstand, and I want desperately to reach forward and pull the chain.

_97, 96, 95…_

I want to flood my bedroom with light, so that it fills every corner, chasing away the shadows that plague me.

_94, 93, 92…_

But even if I did pull that rusty chain, I know nothing would happen. I would still be shrouded in darkness.

_91…_

My hands are shaking so I bring them up to clutch either side of my head, rocking back and forth slowly.

_Breathe, Lissa!_

I sit that way for a long time before I finally regain control of my body. I'm not even really sure what I dream about most nights, except that it's horrible. They always feel the same, though. They always leave me trembling and gasping for breath. Even after I've managed to recover, I am racked with a feeling of inconsolable hopelessness. I used to sleep through the night when I was younger, back when my uncle and I had shared a small one bedroom unit. The night terrors and the panic attack that usually ensues afterward have only gotten worse with age. It's a feeling I know I could eradicate if only I could turn on the light. But I can't.

My uncle has offered on a number of occasions to leave me with a few candles, but I won't waste our rations on things as trivial as nightmares. I would burn through our monthly allotment in a week. Anyways, our neighbors would probably report the light spilling through my window to the authorities. The last thing my family needs is some Resource Auditor poking their nose around our building.

I shiver at the thought, and realize I had tossed my heavy wool blanket onto the floor during my fit. Autumns in the former state of Montana can be unforgiving, and I can no longer tell if I'm shaking from my dreams, or from the chilly predawn air. I reach down and grip the edge of the fabric, pulling it onto my bare legs. I know I should try to get some more sleep, and so I lower my head back onto my pillow. I let my thoughts drift to what the rest of the day might bring, trying to distract myself. I come close to slipping into unconsciousness a few times, but sleep never truly comes. I remain aware of my surroundings, until at last, I see tiny rays of sunshine begin to permeate the darkness.

That's enough for me. I toss back the covers and swing my legs around, letting my toes graze the rough concrete beneath me. I take a moment, reaching my hands above my head in an attempt to stretch and release a little bit of the tension in my shoulders. My eyelids are heavy and I realize that at some point today, I am going to regret missing those last few hours of sleep. I rise from the bed and make my way toward the door that leads into the main hallway of the housing unit that my uncle and I share.

I suppose I should be grateful for our new lodgings. When we had first been relocated to this compound, Victor and I had shared a single room. The bathroom situation was even less appealing. Eventually, Victor and I were allowed to move into a single family home left over from before the Event. I guess the compound used to be an army base, but much of it had been destroyed during the Event. The rest had been gutted so that it could be rebuilt to house refugees like my uncle and me. We didn't really have a choice in coming here, but after everything that happened, the government decided to reorganize the population. Well, what was left of it.

Our compound is located in the Midwest province of NAAMA. NAAMA stands for the North American Alliance for Modern Advancement, but it used to be just the United States of America. There are other compounds in our province, and other provinces within NAAMA, each one just like the other; built for efficiency and to be easily controlled. Almost every part of my life is regulated within the compound. The new government tells me what to eat and when, how to dress, and even when to take a shower.

I hear the toll of a bell that I know stands at the center of the compound, letting me know that it's only 6:00 in the morning. I make my toward the end of the hallway and open the door to the bathroom. Water won't be distributed to this section of the compound for another fifteen minutes or so, but I start my morning routine anyways. Resources are scarce now, and in order to conserve water, we are only allowed access to water for bathing at specifically mandated times. It was the same with electricity, ours wouldn't turn on until 5:00 this evening.

Despite the poor lighting of the bathroom, I see my reflection in the mirror clearly. I hardly recognize myself these days. A tangle of pale blonde hair cuts off at my shoulders. My tresses are unruly and I wage a daily battle against them, my only weapon being a fine toothed comb. I brush a lock of silvery hair behind my ear to reveal the rest of my heart shaped face. Two jade green eyes stare back at me. My eyes used to be the part of myself I loved most, but now they seemed haunted. Eyes that have seen too much. I pinch my cheeks, trying to force some color into them. The events of the previous night had left me pale, but I know it is no use.

I turn the sink on briefly and a few droplets of water trickle out onto my palms. I bring my hands to my lips and drink. Again, my efforts to bring normalcy to my appearance are thwarted. I take a deep breath and glance back up at my appearance. I make a face at myself, and then pull down on my eyelids with the tips of my fingers, it is no use. I hoped a shower would help me shake off this feeling as I padded back into the hallway to grab a towel from the linen closet.

By the time I've returned to the bathroom, it's almost time for our daily allotment of bathing water to be distributed to our home via the pipes that run beneath the compound. I quickly shed my night gown, revealing a lithe figure. I wrap my arms around my bare skin, trying to retain a little bit of warmth as I step into the shower stall. The small tiles beneath my feet are cold, and I fidget slightly as I wait. Finally the shower head sputters to life and I feel as if some one has dumped a bucket of ice water over my head, and I gasp loudly, trying to recover from the shock. After a few moments, the temperature rises to a moderately comfortable level and I am able to finish showering before the water shuts off abruptly.

This is my life. I wake up every morning in either a state of panic, or to the clanging sound of a bell. After one rude awakening or another, I force myself to suffer through a shower whose temperature I have no control over. I usually emerge shivering and wrap my self in a thread spun towel that has since become to small to cover even the most immodest of girls. I don a version of the same clothes I've worn every day for the last 17 years. We don't have things like department stores or boutiques any more, I'm not even really sure what those are. Our clothes, like everything else that we need, come from the Resource Distribution Center. Each individual is given three to five sets of clothing, depending on their vocation. Each set varies a little from the other, but they all fall into the same drab end of the color spectrum.

I feel bad complaining about things like cold showers and bland skirts. These things should be the least of my worries. I know I should consider it a privilege that I find myself even capable of complaining about such frivolous matters.

_Your life could have turned out much worse._

I tell myself as I pull my long hair into a bun at the crown of my head.

_You could have died._

I select a beige long sleeved dress and pull it over my head.

_You could have died right along side your parents._

I slip on a pair of brown boots more suitable to hiking than sitting behind a desk all day.

"Stop it." This time, I have spoken my words out loud.

When no one answers, not even my own subconscious, I finally make my way into the kitchen to scrounge something together for breakfast. I open and close several cabinets. Not pleased with what I find, I repeat the process, even though I know I won't find anything more appealing than before waiting behind the rickety cabinet doors. I eventually settle for an apple. I take a bite as I make my way toward the front door of my unit. I don't bother taking the apple out of my mouth as I retrieve my coat and scarf that hang by the door. Once I am all bundled up beneath my layers, I pull the apple from my lips and walk out the front door. I turn and take one last fleeting look at the bare bones unit I had been forced to call home before slamming the door shut behind me.

The fall air is crisp and clean, and I hear the faint sounds of others stirring in their homes as they get ready for the day. I begin making my toward the center of the compound where I work. Like me, most of the people living here were made to do so after the Event. We were given shelter, food, clothing, and even jobs. Most of the men living here were assigned to work in the fields that lay just outside the stone walls of the compound, my uncle being one of them. We grow a number of things here in the Midwestern Province; peanuts, cotton, and corn, but most of it is sent to the other provinces who aren't as lucky as we are. The women living here are usually assigned to train as teachers or caregivers. People are assigned to jobs based on the needs of the community, not based on whatever they did before the Event. That seemed like a waste to me, but what good were my thoughts? They were nothing compared to the new regime that now ruled NAAMA.

As I get closer to the compound's center, I pass the school where every child between the ages of 4 and 16 spends most of their days. We were taught the basics there; math, and reading, but never science. It was there that one of my teachers had discovered my aptitude for mathematics which had resulted in a very peculiar job placement. When I turned 16, I did not join my fellow women at the school or at the daycare. I was assigned to work as a bookkeeper for the Resource Distribution Center.

I hate my job. The Resource Distribution Center is responsible for rationing out everything from water to clothing to medicine. To say that they are conservative in their methods would be putting it mildly. My job is simple; I have to record how much food, clothing, medicine, and any other resource provided by the government is used by every individual in the compound, down to the last child. It falls under my duties to report anyone who might be hoarding resources. I hardly ever report anyone though, most people here are just trying to live. I've gotten away with turning a blind eye so far, but I think my supervisor is on to me. Unlike me, Cal, enjoys the work that we do. He tells me that it is an honor to be trusted to do the important work that we do. I think he just gets off on withholding things that others need.

Once I've finally made it to the RDC, I shed my coat and scarf, and try to sneak past Cal before he can spot me. I have barely made it past the door of his office when I hear him call my name.

"Vasilisa, not so fast there," he spins around to face me with a cocky smile plastered on his face.

I usually insist that people call me by my nickname, Lissa, but not Cal. Cal looks to be in his early forties, I know he isn't, but his receding hair line is not doing him any favors. He is also one of the only overweight humans I have ever seen here in the compound. His round belly hangs over the front of his too small pants, and when he grins, I can see that he hasn't brushed his teeth in at least a week.

"What's the rush?" He asks me. "Not avoiding me are you?"

I shake my head fervently, "I was just going to the counter, we need to open soon."

He eyes me suspiciously, "Alright, go ahead and get started."

I turn away from him but, he calls after me again.

"Vasilisa? Don't forget we're closing early today."

I nod in response and make my way toward the counter where people will eventually come to me to make resource requests. Closing early? I racked my brain, trying to remember why we would be closing early. It takes me only a few moments before I remember.

The Anniversary.

My day is a blur after that, and with each passing hour, I find myself growing more and more nervous. How could I have forgotten that today was the Anniversary? At 4:00 PM sharp, I close down the counter and gather my things. Luckily, Cal sometimes likes to bail on work after his lunch break, and so I am left alone to lock up the RDC. Everyone has made their way into the compound's center where they stand gathered around a large pole with a speaker fitted on top. I join the throng of people and wait. A few moments later, a crackling noise comes over the speaker, and it begins.

"Good evening, citizens of the North American Alliance for Modern Advancement," came the cool, feminine voice of Tasha Ozera.

"Today we are gathered, not to mourn, but to celebrate. This day is a momentous one, for on it, 16 years ago, we were reborn."

I heard a few people around me murmur their agreement and excitement. I just felt sick.

"16 years ago, unknown terrorists launched a massive amount of scud rockets, armed with nuclear warheads high into the Earth's atmosphere. The explosion and the subsequent radiation alone would have wiped out the populace, had it not been for the altitude at which the rockets were detonated. Instead, it triggered an Event that would change our world forever. The simultaneous explosions created an electromagnetic pulse that permanently disabled every electronic device on the face of planet Earth. Communication became impossible, traffic lights ceased to work, and planes fell out of the sky as the cities below them burned. People were left stranded, many died of starvation and exposure, others were caught in electrical fires, while their fellow man turned to murder and theft to survive. Our world fell into chaos and it seemed there would be no end to the destruction."

I look around and realize that some of the women have started crying while children cling to their mother's legs.

"But it would end. Your government would prevail, and soon we were able to reorganize and rebuild. We have emerged stronger, and more prepared than ever. We are no longer forced to rely on gadgets and devices so that we may survive. The same gadgets that turned on us 16 years ago. Never again will we be vulnerable to such an attack."

People began clapping as Tasha's voice swelled with a self-righteous confidence.

"Never again will we face the decimation that once threatened to wipe man kind off of the planet and out of the history books! Never again will we become slaves to technology! We are strong! We are independent! And we are united!"

**This was probably pretty confusing, but I hope it peeked your interest. Also as an FYI, this story will alternate between Lissa and Rose's POV.**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Rose - _**

_"We are strong! We are independent! And we are united!"_

_We are full of shit,_ I thought to myself.

I have heard so many variations of Executor Ozera's uplifting Anniversary speech, that I could probably have stood up and given it myself. However, my version would have more cuss words, and would probably end with something about how we are all doomed to live and die in corn fields, while the rest of the world rediscovers flushing toilets. I keep my thoughts to myself of course. I do, after all, claim to serve this crackpot woman who runs our beloved country of NAAMA. Discrediting our savior would earn me a one way ticket to an early grave. Death doesn't frighten me, but I have some things to take care of before I let Tasha stick me in a hole.

I scan the crowd and notice that it is mostly women and children. There are a few men, but most of them are much older than the one I am looking for. The crowd erupted into applause at the end of Tasha's speech, but now they stand in a throng around the speaker as they mingle with each other. Special days like the Anniversary allow for the citizens to have a few extra hours of socializing before they need to return to their housing units. Most of the citizens, anyways. Many of the able bodied men are required to work the fields, they had not been allowed to end their work days early, even on the Anniversary. I guess farm work stops for no one.

I glance down at the watch on my wrist. It is a sign of my status within the military that I am even allowed to wear a watch that operates on a battery. The glowing numbers read 4:37 PM. I still have about 20 minutes until the final bell rings, officially calling back the field hands.

I am almost positive that the man I have come to this particular compound for isn't among the people standing before me, but I decide to make one last sweep anyways. Women talk happily among themselves, but their chatter dies down as I approach them. I have that effect on people. My black jumpsuit and combat boots mark me as a member of the military. Most of the citizens in the provinces aren't too friendly with the soldiers. The maroon belt around my waist also tells people that I am not your average soldier. I am an investigator for the Risk Prevention Department, which gives the people even more cause to fear me.

I was born and raised within the confines of one of NAAMA's most prestigious military academies. I have spent my entire life training to be a soldier. At the academy, I was taught everything from hand-to-hand combat, to strategy, to torture techniques. I excelled in everything that I did, which placed me on a fast-track to graduate. I rose through the ranks quickly, graduated early, and now I work as an investigator for the most elite branch of the military: The Risk Prevention Department. Don't let the name fool you, it only sounds like it was created to do good and to keep people safe. The name is meant to fool the civilians, to make them think that their government is looking out for them. But most people know the truth.

Its my job to keep the people of NAAMA in the dark. When Tasha Ozera came into power, she imposed strict bans on what forms of technology the people had access to. After what happened during the Event, most people were more than willing to sacrifice the comforts of modern technology to ensure that a repeat attack wouldn't throw society into the same chaos it had before. Not everyone agreed though, over time, groups began popping up here and there. People gathered to discuss science, theory, and life before the Event. Executor Ozera saw these people as dissidents and as threats, and that's where the Risk Prevention Department came into play. Our job is to root out anyone with knowledge of the way things work. We mostly target former engineers, scientists, and teachers. Determining a persons' former vocation isn't always easy though, any information that was stored electronically was lost during the Event. Investigators often have to rely on their instincts and observations, or sometimes we receive reports of a possible threat. That's how I ended up in the middle of nowhere, combing through a crowd of scared looking women and children, searching for a man who is rumored to be holding secret meetings of the mind.

I don't have much to go on since obtaining a photo of this man would be almost impossible, so I run through his description in my head once more, trying to picture him.

_Victor._

_Middle-aged._

_Black hair, streaked with grey._

_Green eyes._

No one in the crowd even comes close to matching that description, so I decide to cut my losses and head toward the compound's entrance. The people give me a wide birth as I make my way toward the wrought iron gates that serve as the compound's only point of entry, where I know the field hands will be coming in from soon. The gravel crunches beneath my combat boots with every step, but it doesn't take me long to realize that my shoes are not the only ones making noise. Some one is following me. I slow down a little, careful not to do anything that might alert the person behind me to the fact that I am aware of their presence. I concentrate on the sounds all around me, their pace is light and quick, most likely female. I decide that whoever is behind me is not a threat. I turn my head to one side slightly, my long dark ponytail swaying as I do. Out of my peripheral vision I can spot a girl. She walks with her arms wrapped tightly around herself and keeps her eyes trained on the ground. I turn my attention toward the gates, she is not important to me.

Once I reach the gates I nod at the guards, but even they are scared of me. One of them stammers out a greeting and the other won't even meet my gaze. I melt into the shadows of the concrete walls that surround the compound and wait. Five minutes pass and then a loud bell rings out, signaling for the field-hands to return to the compound. One of the guards pulls out a set of keys and unlocks a caged box that has been welded to the wall. He reaches inside and pulls down on what I assume is a lever. The gates then creak open slowly. I smirk at the sight of it all. Executor Ozera seems perfectly fine with technology as long as it is being used to keep people caged.

Dirty, tired looking men begin to trickle in. Some are young, maybe a few years my junior, others are stooped with old age. They all wear long sleeved shirts and trousers held up with suspenders. One man in particular draws my gaze. He isn't Victor. He is tall, much taller than the others. He has dark brown hair that has been pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. In the military, long hair on men is forbidden and so I find myself staring at this man, momentarily distracted. I force myself to tear my eyes away, realizing that I have forgotten why I am here. _Find Victor._

I start eliminating men based on hair color, only four have hair that could be deemed black, and two of them are under the age of 30. That leaves two possibilities. I squint my eyes at the first, I can see streaks of silver and other obvious signs of aging. I watch him closely, but can't be sure of his eye color from this distance. He walks slowly, dragging his feet behind him. Something about his gait makes me think that this man is ill. He suddenly perks up and begins moving with more purpose. He is walking toward a girl with pale blonde hair, the same girl who had been following me, I realize. She throws her arms around his neck and then pulls away to study him. She frowns at the man out of concern, and then begins leading him away. Maybe this girl is important.

I glance over at the second man, searching for anything that might indicate he is the one I have been searching for all these years. I wait until the majority of the men have moved passed the gates, and then begin tailing him. I make sure I don't draw any attention to myself, quieting my footsteps and maintaining a safe distance. The second man turns his head to the side at one point and I am able to scratch him off my list of suspects almost instantaneously. Over his right eye, is an eye patch. Permanent injuries and maladies are not uncommon , he most likely sustained that injury during the Event. It probably doesn't help that any medical advancements made in the past fifty years were wiped from the textbooks, so most people have no choice but to live with whatever ails them.

Our sources would have mentioned something as distinctive as a missing eyeball so I dropped back, allowing the man to continue the rest of his day without incident. I scan the people ahead of me searching for the first man and the girl who had greeted him. I would need to figure out her relation to him. It is unlikely they are involved romantically, so I assumed it had to be familial. Although, from what I had been able to dig up on Victor before coming to the Midwestern province, he didn't have any surviving relatives. The girl with the blonde hair remained a mystery, for now.

It didn't take me long to spot them. I frown as I realize where they are heading. Most of the citizens in this compound choose to spend the hour between work ending and curfew, socializing in the public access areas. These two, however, are making their way toward the buildings that house family units. The girl keeps one arm wrapped protectively around the man who I am almost certain was Victor. They stop in front of a dilapidated grey building, she pauses for a moment, whispers something to the man, and then withdraws a set of keys from her coat pocket. They step inside and the girl pulls the door shut behind them.

I study the building they had entered. It's run down, but I guess it still has four walls and a roof.

The compounds where most civilians live are nothing compared to the military academies and bases that I have lived on. We live in clean, modern structures. We even have access to running water and electricity 24/7. Perks of being a drone I guess. I hadn't known for a long time that most of the country didn't have access to the things I did growing up. My classmates and I had assumed that living conditions were the same for everyone. It wasn't until my first field assignment that I had witnessed the squalor that civilians live in.

If the building is like the other units in this compound, then there is only one point of entry. After weighing my options, I decide to stake the place out, on the off chance that Victor is stupid enough to have his little meeting in his own home. I dont think he is, not based on the report I have managed to put together on him so far.

I look around, my eyes settle on a tall oak tree that stands about 15 yards away from Victor's unit. After making sure no one is around to see me, I scale it effortlessly and settle onto one of the higher branches. It offers a perfect vantage point. Another hour goes by and I see the lights from within the building turn on; time for their daily allotment of electricity. A few other civilians have made their way back from the square, returning home for the night. I notice that no one has entered the building that stands directly to the right of Victor's. It is possible the building is vacant, but that seems unlikely when I consider how many people still share single bedroom units here at the compound. _Perhaps there is something wrong with the building structurally_, I muse to myself.

Another hour passes. By now, the moon has chased the sun away and my neck and shoulders feel stiff. I reach my arms to the sky, hoping to relieve some of the tension. I re-adjust myself, only to realize that my legs have fallen asleep. I groan inwardly, thinking about how amused my partner will be when I tell him that I've wasted the last few hours away, sitting in a tree and staring into windows. Eddie hates stake outs, but that's only because he is a man of action, not because he isn't disciplined enough to do the job. Eddie takes our work very seriously, so seriously that I couldn't risk him figuring out why I had requested to be assigned to this investigation, and I had insisted that he stay behind.

A few weeks ago, I had been on my way back to the barracks after a late night training session when I overheard a conversation taking place in hushed tones. I pressed myself against the front of the gym and inched closer to the corner. I dared a peak around it, but could only make out two figures standing in the shadows of the building. Eavesdropping is forbidden, but I've never really been a stickler for the rules. I strained to hear them, and moved myself as close as possible without giving away my position.

"And you're sure it's him?" asked a voice, most likely male.

"Yes," hissed the other, most likely female.

"Do you know what this means?" asked the man. "If Victor is still alive, then that means there is someone out there who knows – "

"Shh!" the other voice cut in. "I'm well aware of what it means."

"If Victor survived the Purge, is it possible that Ibrahim and Janine survived as well?"

My heart pounded against my ribcage so loudly at the sound of their names that I was surprised no one had heard me.

"No." Said the female voice coolly. "That is impossible."

My heart suddenly no longer felt as if it would beat its way out of my chest, now it sank.

_Impossible._

I had heard enough. The next day I made my way toward the administrative building and found Mason, who worked there when he wasn't on assignment. After a little sweet talking on my part, I had been able to determine which investigators were being considered for the Victor assignment. This man had something to do with Ibrahim and Janine, and I would do whatever it took to figure out what that connection was. Mason told me that I was in the running, but so were two others. He was also able to tell me that Alberta Petrov would have the final say in who went. She liked me well enough, and I was fairly confident that I would be her choice. She had, after all, been the first of my instructors to take note of my capabilities. But I couldn't leave something like this up to chance, so I had decided that I would just flat out ask her. I gave her some bullshit story about how I was fed up with life on-base, and that I wanted out. I also told her that Mason had let slip that the Victor case was a high-profile one, and I wanted the chance to prove myself, but as a solo investigator. It didn't take much to convince her to let me go, and to let me go sans Eddie. Two weeks later I was on a train headed towards the former state of Montana with my first real lead.

Shouts from inside Victor's unit pull me back to the present. I can see the girl standing in front of a window. She is staring out of it with her arms folded, the scowl on her face contrasting sharply with her demure features. I notice then that she is very pretty. She turns her back to the window and walks away before I can study her more closely. It had sounded like they were arguing, but I couldn't be sure what it had been about.

A few more hours pass without incidence, and then suddenly, all the lights in all of the units go out simultaneously. The entire block has fallen completely dark. It doesn't seem like I am going to witness any action, and anyways I can no longer see what's happening in the units, so I decide to climb down from my perch. I take one last glance at the dark row of housing units and then leap down. I roll to the side when I hit the ground, muffling the sounds of my body. I stand up and dust myself up, and out of the corner of my eye, I spot it. A faint flicker of light appears briefly in a window of the building I had assumed was vacant.

I freeze, wondering if I had imagined the light.

_It was there, I saw it._

I drop to a low crouch and move silently across the hard ground and toward the not so vacant unit. I position myself below the window and quiet my breath and body.

_Bingo._

I can hear whispers. I listen harder, trying to determine whose voices I'm hearing, but there are so many. Too many, I realize.

I can't tell if its Victor or if what their discussing has anything to do with science or the Event, but the fact that these people are gathered after dark is enough for me to bust them. I weigh my options, if I bust them, I risk losing the opportunity to talk to Victor. Ideally, I would wait outside the door and ambush him the moment he crossed the threshold. But I had watched this area all night, no one had come in or out, and these units don't have back doors. I rack my brain trying to figure out how people might have entered the unit.

I have a theory, but it seems unlikely. I decide to test it anyways.

I roll to the side, toward the door where Victor and the girl and gone inside. I crouch, facing the knob and reach for it. I turn it slowly, and to my surprise, it's open. I push the door open gently and slip inside. It is completely dark, too dark for me to function. I reach into one of my jumpsuit's many pockets and pull out a pair of special issue night vision goggles. Again, it's amazing the technology that Executor Ozera has managed to withhold from the civilians, all in the name of _protecting_ them.

The room around me comes into view the moment I slip the glasses on, and I take in my surroundings. The entryway is tidy and lined with coats and scarves, and to my left is a kitchen, a little further down the hall is a stair case. This layout is pretty standard for NAAMA housing units. What is not standard, is an entryway, just to the left of the staircase. I inch toward it and upon further examination, I realize that there is a door, but it is made of the same paneled material as the walls.

_Shit_, I murmur to myself.

This probably looks like a wall when it's shut.

I am almost positive that I know where this secret corridor will lead. My suspicions are confirmed when I move down it and see that it curves sharply to the right, toward the abandoned unit.

I freeze at the sound of footsteps. A figure rounds the corner, and I realize that it's the girl. She is clinging to the walls, inching along blindly. Had it not been pitch black, she would have spotted me. I wait until she is only a foot away before throwing my body against hers, pinning her by her throat with one hand, and clamping the other over her mouth.

"Scream and you die,"


	3. Chapter 3

**_Vasilisa – _**

The crowd erupted into applause at the end of Executor Ozera's anniversary speech. The idea that her words had filled the people of NAAMA with hope makes me sick, but I suppose they dont know any better. They don't really know anything. How could they? Not everyone has someone like Victor in their lives to teach them.

I ring my hands together nervously at the thought of Victor. I find myself wishing that he had been allowed to come to the gathering, but think better of it. Tasha's speech would only make him angry, and more insistent on going through with tonight's meeting. My only hope is that he will be too tired from working all day and will call the whole thing off.

_Fat chance, _I think to myself.

Victor loves his gatherings, he relishes any chance that allows him to impart knowledge to even one person. He had been a professor before the Event, and I think missing his old position is how this whole thing had started.

At first, it was just the two of us. He would sit me on his knee, when I was still small, and he would tell me stories about what life was like before the Pulse. When I outgrew his lap, his stories started to change; they weren't really stories any more. He told me how things worked, he talked about the seasons, the stars, and the seas. We sat together every night, drawing little pictures into the dirt floor by candle light. A few years ago, I learned about molecules and atoms, about elements and compounds. It was amazing, all of it.

His lessons were fluid, always changing, but one sentiment remained the same. I could never, under any circumstances, tell anyone about what I knew. When I was younger, I didn't understand the reasoning behind his warnings, but I am nothing if not obedient. I know better now. I am a living, breathing threat to the system. I am the reason things like the Risk Prevention Department exist.

Victor wasn't content to teach only me though. He started with the boy who lives in the unit next to mine, Dimitri. Then there was Nathan and Daniella, and then their son, Adrian. Last month, Mia and her parents had started showing up to the gathering, and today, Jill had slipped me a note confirming that she would be at tonight's meeting.

_Too many people…too many people know._

Some one bumps into me, jarring me from my thoughts. I frown as I realize that most of the crowd has fallen silent. The women pull their children behind their skirts, and a small pathway is made where bodies used to stand. I crane my neck, trying to see what would cause such a reaction. I quickly see that it isn't a what, it's a who.

My blood runs cold at the sight of her. She wears the jet black uniform of one of NAAMA's soldiers. I try to get my breathing under control. Soldiers visit compounds for any number of reasons, _shes not here for you,_ I tell myself reassuringly.

Whatever courage I had been able to muster dissipates when my eyes fall on the belt cinched around her waist. It is blood red, the mark of an investigator. My heart is in overdrive and my knees are knocking together, I cant stop shaking. Before I can start my countdown, she turns her gaze on me. Her dark eyes pass right over me, and I am caught off guard by how beautiful she is. She's young, a few years older than me at most. She doesn't look like any investigator I've ever seen, though she seems just as fierce, just as deadly. She terrifies me.

Something about her gaze makes me think she is looking for some one. Whoever it is, I can only assume they aren't here, because she walks purposefully away. I release the breath I had been holding and feel my arms fall to my sides limply. The crowd is suddenly too much for me, and I decide that I would rather go wait for Victor at the gates than listen to the women surmise why an investigator had showed up at our compound. I cut through the people, fighting the urge to do so at a run.

Once I break away, I feel instantly better, but that feeling is short lived. Ahead of me, walking in the direction of the gates, is the investigator.

_Stupid, so stupid, _I tell myself.

Of course she isn't looking for me, she's looking for Victor, he's the ring leader after all, the source of all the trepidation.

It takes everything I have not to break into a sprint, instead I try to make myself as insignificant as possible. I wrap my arms around myself protectively and stare at the ground. I don't like that I can't see the girl, but decide I would rather she catch me staring at the ground, as opposed to staring at her. Soldiers don't take too kindly to civilians studying them.

She makes it to the gates before me and stands off to the side, never taking her eyes off of the guards. The sound of the bell makes me jump and I decide to hang back until the men have actually cleared the threshold. The gates creak open and soon I can see the men off in the distance. They begin to trickle in and I let my eyes flick to where the investigator is positioned in the shadows. She is staring at one of them, a strange look on her face, she seems confused by something. I follow her gaze, and realize who has captured her attention. Dimitri is among the first of the men to return from the fields. He has always been tall, even when we were younger I always saw him as larger than life, maybe it was because he was so much older than me. When I was little, I used to follow him around everywhere he went, he never seemed to mind though. He would take care of me whenever Victor's illness got the best of him, he had once sworn to always protect me. Dimitri was the closest thing I had to family, well besides Victor. I was just as panicked at the thought of the investigator being here for Dimitri as I was when I had assumed she was here for Victor.

Her eyes break away from Dimitri and I pull mine away from her. I scan the crowd and spot Victor. My heart sinks at the sight of him, he is practically limping. I rush forward to him without thinking and throw my arms around his neck.

"Lissa," he gasps. "Easy there."

I pull back and my eyes sweep over him. Victor is pale, much too pale for a man who spends most of his time working under the harsh rays of the sun. He tries to give me a reassuring smile, but I can see the pain behind his eyes. Victor has been sick for as long as I can remember, but lately it's been taking more of a toll on him.

"Come on," I say as I slip one arm around him. "Let's get you home."

We walk together slowly, all thoughts of the investigator falling to the back of my mind. Once we are about halfway to our unit, I decide to bring up the meeting.

"Uncle," I say softly. "I've been thinking…"

Victor chuckles at my words, "That's good news, Vasilisa. Never stop thinking."

I steal a glance at him and see that he is smiling, a faint twinkle in his jade green eyes. Our eyes are about the only feature we share. After Victor had taught me about genetics and recessive and dominant traits, I had made a joke about us not actually being related. He had ended the lesson abruptly after that and hadn't broached the topic again.

I let out an exasperated sigh, "I've been thinking about tonight's gathering, I don't think the timing is right."

"Because it's the Anniversary?" He asked knowingly.

We are standing in front our unit now, and I fish around in my pockets for a set of keys. My fingers are fumbling as I try to find the one I need. Once I have the smooth metal of the key firmly in my grasp, I lean over to whisper in Victor's ear.

"The Risk Prevention Department is here."

He pushes past me and into the house as if I haven't said a word. I follow him and shut the door behind me.

"Did you hear me?" I ask as I shed my coat and hang it on one of the hooks that lines the hallway. "There was an investigator watching all of the field hands today, she was looking for some one!"

Victor stares at me incredulously, "And did she find who she was looking for?"

"No," I respond, blanching. "I don't know, I'm not sure who she was looking for."

"Exactly," Victor told me as he wondered into the kitchen. "We can't let the presence of one silly girl keep us from our work."

I think maybe if he had seen her, he wouldn't be calling the investigator a silly girl.

"Victor, what we're doing is dangerous!"

"What we're doing is important," he said calmly. "We all deserve the right to pursue knowledge, knowledge is power, and the government knows that…"

"And once we have armed ourselves with knowledge, we are armed with a weapon that can never be taken away from us, I know," I told him furrowing my brows together as I speak.

"Then why are we having this discussion?"

I let out a sigh, knowing that my words will never sway him. I see him struggling to open a can of beans and I walk over, extending out my hand to his.

"Let me," I say gently.

He hands the can over reluctantly and I pop it open and dump the contents into a bowl. I know our sudden role reversal troubles Victor, he has always been the one to take care of me. I open my own can and carry our bowls over to the crate that serves as our dining room table. We eat in silence, neither of us wanting to irritate the other.

Eventually, the lights all flicker to life and Victor lets out a snort when they do. I can already tell what's coming.

"If I could get my hands on some decent wiring, I could power these ridiculous lightbulbs with a potato."

I've heard this antecdote before, but I smile at him anyways.

My ears perk up at the sound of some one scratching on the far wall, from behind the pantry.

"Ah," said Victor, his eyes lighting up "That'll be Dimitri."

I let out a sigh and rise from my seat. I open up the pantry and push against its false back. Victor and Dimitri had found a way to connect all of the units in our building, using false backs and concealed doors. It was ingenious, and allowed for everyone to move between units without ever venturing outside, thus helping us to avoid suspicion. It slides to one side to reveal a very tall, very handsome Dimitri. I must be frowning because he asks me what's wrong.

"I saw an investigator," I say in a hushed tone. "I'm trying to convince Victor to call off the gathering."

"I heard about that, Adrian says she's cute."

"You could put a dress on a bale of hay and Adrian would call it cute," I tell him, a little too bitterly. "Just…stay away from the windows? You're not supposed to be here."

I turn and he follows me into the kitchen.

"Dimitri, my boy," says Victor enthusiastically.

"Shhh!" I say, bringing one finger to my lips.

Dimitri blushes at my reaction and mouths an apology. He is usually so stoic, and seeing his face tinged with pink is strange. I cross to the window and stare out of it, trying to avoid both of their gazes.

"Vasilisa," came Victor's soothing voice. "You worry too much,"

I felt my face contort with rage at his words. I take a deep breath before whipping my head around to face him.

"And you don't worry enough!" I snap. "What happens if she catches us tonight? It's not just you and me any more, too many people are at risk now."

"They know what's at stake, they know the risk."

"Do they?" I ask him pleadingly. "Do they know it's their lives at stake? Did you tell them what happens to people who are hunted down by investigators?"

I bite down on my lip, trying not to let the tears that have formed in my eyes slide down my cheeks as I think about my parents, and how they died.

Victor bows his head guiltily.

"No," he finally says. "I will be sure to make that point very clear at tonight's meeting."

"Fine," I say, my eyes glossing over with unshed tears. "But you'll do it at the beginning."

Victor knows that I won't let this go and so he nods at me solemnly.

Dimitri's warm voice cuts in, slicing the tension that has filled the air like a knife. "Lissa, want to help me set up the other room?"

"Fine." My response is stiff, and even though I don't actually want to, I follow him into the hallway. I suppose the work will distract me.

He offers me a reassuring smile before running his fingers down the side of the stairwell. I hear a soft popping noise and I know he has found the seal between the concealed door and where it butts up against the stairs. He pulls it open and gestures for me to enter first. The corridor is pitch black and I have to grope the walls and feel my way around the sharp turn.

"Careful," Dimitri whispers behind me.

My hands finally settle on a smooth metal bar, letting me know I have reached the door that will lead into the vacant unit. I throw the full weight of my body against it, forcing it to lurch forward. A soft clicking noise lets me know that I have successfully forced the panel onto a rail, the wheels attached to its bottom let me pull the door to one side with little effort.

A curtain of dank stale air washes over me. This unit nearly burned to the ground a few years ago, and has been abandoned ever since. The flames had gutted it, leaving it standing, but uninhabitable. It was a miracle really, that the fire hadn't spread to the other units. A very suspicious miracle if you ask me.

Whatever the circumstances surrounding the unit, it now served as our meeting place. Dimitri and I had hung heavy, blank scraps of material over all of the windows. It had actually been a terrifying process for me, I had had to steal from the Resource Distribution Center.

I shiver at the thought, and set to work immediately. Dimitri and I check the window coverings first, ensuring that no light can be seen from the outside. We tidy up the place as best we can, dragging a few rickety chairs and tables into the center, forming a semi circle. Dimitri sets up Victor's chalkboard so that it can be seen from every seat. He helps me hang more scraps of the long fabric from the ceiling, forming a room divider and sealing off the room as best we can. I had insisted on two lines of defense, two layers of protection. We arrange our meager supply of candles on the table, and then step back to admire our work. Satisfied, we make our way back to where Victor is still sitting in the kitchen. I am not surprised to see that Adrian and his parents are waiting for us. They stand huddled in the corner of the room, well away from our one window's view.

"You can go back," I tell them in a quiet voice. "The others will be here soon."

They leave without saying a word, I guess Victor warned them about my mood.

"I wish I knew what time it was," Dimitri told me, scrunching his eyebrows together.

The lights went out just then.

"Does that answer your question?" I ask him dryly.

A flicker appears from over where Victor is sitting, I look over to see a match illuminating his aged features.

"Come on," he says, his breath causing the flame to shudder. "It's time. The others will know where to go."

Dimitri escorts Victor into the abandoned unit and helps him to settle into the chair beside his beloved chalkboard. I take a seat next to Adrian, and he wastes no time with pleasantries.

"Victor says the investigator has got your panties in a twist."

I scowl at his phrase, "Stop talking about my underwear."

He shrugs off my words and continues, "Did you get a good look at her?"

"Yes," I say before I can stop myself. I didn't really want to talk about the investigator any more.

Before Adrian can grill me any more, Victor calls out to me.

"Lissa," he says. "I've left the chalk in the kitchen, you know where it is. Would you mind grabbing it for me?"

Im not sure if Victor has actually forgotten the chalk or if he had merely sensed my discomfort. I nod and slip out of the inner ring of fabric just as Jill and Mia approach, each brandishing a candle of their own.

"Put that out!" I hiss. "You know we can't have any light in here!"

They blow out their candles simultaneously and give me sheepish looks.

"Just…go sit down," I say, trying not to sound angry.

I watch them pull the curtains aside and enter the inner circle of light and warmth. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for the short journey through the darkened passageway. Once I gather my resolve, I place my fingers gingerly on the walls of the door way and step carefully inside. My breathing is shallow, but still manages to feel heavy. I inch along the wall slowly, feeling my way as I go. I know I should hit the turn soon, just a little further –

Suddenly, I am thrown against the wall by an unseen figure. Before I can even register what is happening, I feel fingers wrap around my throat. I want to scream, but before I can, a second hand clamps down violently over my mouth. My head is knocked backward into the wall behind me and my vision blurs for a moment.

"Scream and you die."

**Some feedback would be greatly appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Rose – _**

I lean in close so that I can whisper into the girls ear, my lips graze her soft skin as I part them to speak.

"Now," I say softly. "Im going to give you two choices, are you listening?"

The girl lets out a soft whimper, I can only assume that this is her way of saying yes. She is trembling beneath me, and the hand I have clamped over her mouth is damp with her salty tears. I hate myself for making this poor girl cry, but she knows Victor. I wasn't taught to be sympathetic, I was taught to be effective.

"Good," I croon. "Now, when I remove my hand you can scream and cause a scene - forcing me to call for back up, and I don't think you want a raid."

She tries to shake her head back and forth to indicate as much, but my grip around her throat is too tight.

"Or, you can come with me and we can have a little chat – girl to girl," I hiss.

This time she tries to nod, and I let my grip slacken just a little. I study her expression through the lens of my goggles, she is too scared to cross me.

With lightning speed and proficiency, I release her mouth and throat and spin her around to face the passage's entryway. She moves like a rag doll and I almost don't think its necessary to pin her arms behind her back as I maneuver her down the dank hallway. She stumbles and I can see her chest rising and falling in the darkness as she tries to take deep breaths.

My instructors would have had my ass my for this, but I can't stand to watch the girl as she struggles to put one foot in front of the other. So I move to one side, pulling her arm over my shoulder as I do, so that I can bare most of her weight. Her breath hitches as I do and her body tenses for a split second, but then sags against mine anyways. I decide to take her upstairs, the narrow hallways of the second floor will be easy to defend if she tries to run, or if someone comes looking for her. We take the stairs one at a time, and I can hear her counting under her breath. At first, I think maybe she is counting the steps as we climb then, but then I realize she is counting back from 100.

Based on my observations of this girl so far, it seems pretty clear that she suffers from some kind of anxiety problem. I remind myself not to ask. Details like that make a person more relatable, it humanizes them. I cannot afford to think of this girl as anything more than a means to an end. It's bad enough I haven't cuffed her, instead I lead her like a docile child to the first bedroom I find.

I keep forgetting that she can't see anything, and so I am forced to walk with her all the way to the bed. I take the opportunity to reinforce my role as her captor and instead of lowering her gently onto it, I practically shove her onto the mattress. She draws her knees into her chest and wraps her frail arms around them tightly. Her breathing seems normal enough and I can no longer hear her counting.

I reach into another of my jumpsuit's pockets and withdraw a short cylindrical object. I grip it tightly and then tap it against my hip. I squeeze my eyes shut at the last moment, realizing that I'm still wearing my night vision goggles. I remove the goggles and then open my eyes slowly. Light has since flooded the room, radiating from the gadget in my hand. The light coming from it probably would have seared my retinas had I not remembered to close my eyes. My emotions, and my need to find Victor are making me careless.

"Handy little things," I say, setting it on the dresser behind me.

She is staring at it with wide, brilliantly green eyes. I realize she has probably never seen anything like my little pocket lantern before in her life. She unfolds her legs and sets them down on the floor. Her eyes narrow as they fall on me, she is studying me with the same intensity that an investigator might have. Perhaps this girl isn't the doe-eyed little creature I had been assuming she was.

"Some one is going to notice when I don't come back," she tells me, a hint of defiance in her voice.

I lean back against the far wall and cross my arms over my chest, "Are you threatening me?" I ask her, raising my eyebrows. "That's cute."

She is staring me down, trying to be brave. It's actually kind of impressive, but I don't have time for courage.

"You better hope that no one notices," I say, taking a step in her direction. "For their sake."

She flinches at my approach, her courage snuffed out like a little candle.

"What do to want?" she asks in a small voice.

"What makes you think I want something?" I respond evasively. It would be easier if I could trick her into talking about Victor, instead of accidentally revealing how desperate I am for information.

"Because you haven't reported us. You want something."

This girl is not your average NAAMA civilian. She is smart and logical, traits that had once been held in high esteem before the Event. Now they could get you killed.

"If you think you have the upper hand here," I tell her coolly. "Think again."

She says nothing, she just stares at me with those eery green eyes, eyes that resemble Victor's.

"What is your relation to Victor Dashkov?"

Silence.

I cock my head to one side. "You can tell me here," I offer, gesturing to the tiny room. "Or we can talk in a cell, your cell. Either way, you will talk."

"He's my uncle," she tells me in a small voice.

"You're lying," I say, tone devoid of emotion. "Victor has no living relatives, we have the records to prove it."

She blanches at my words, but recovers quickly. "Maybe you're precious records are wrong," she snaps.

"What is your relation to Victor Dashkov?" I ask again, taking another step toward her.

This time, she doesn't flinch.

"Why does it matter? What do you want with him?"

I bend down, placing my hands on my knees so that I am eye level with her, "I just want to talk to him."

"Then why interrogate me?"

I rise and begin pacing the floor, "Victor is a smart man, if he knows I want to talk to him, then he knows I can't report him…"

"You need leverage," she whispers.

Her words bring me to a halt, "Correct."

"I won't help you," her words are laced with venom. "You might as well kill me."

"Brave words, but I'm an investigator, not a murderer."

She laughs darkly, "I thought the two were synonymous."

I ignore her dig and begin contemplating my next move. Things had unraveled a little more quickly than I had intended them to. I have this girl, whoever she is, she's important to Victor, and that makes her useful.

"What's your name?" I ask her abruptly.

She bites her lip, and for a second I think I'm going to have to threaten her with a cell again, but then she answers. "Vasilisa."

"That's a mouth full," I tell her pointedly. "Well Vasilisa, here's how it's going to be. You're going to go downstairs, and you're going to tell everyone that you aren't feeling well and that you're going to bed. You're going to ask Victor to come check on you, and then you're going to come right back up here like a good girl."

She actually has the nerve to laugh, "Why would I do that?"

I let out a sigh and unzip the top half of my jumpsuit, her eyes widen as I do. I reach a hand down the front of my tank top and pull out the medallion all NAAMA soldiers are given upon graduation. I hold it up in front of her face.

"Do you see this? It's a beacon. All I have to is press my thumb down on the back of it, and it will send out a distress signal. This is how I call in the cavalry. Is that what you want? For all those people down there to be arrested?"

Everything that I'd just told her is a lie. The medallion around my neck is nothing more than a trinket, but I can tell that Vasilisa is compassionate, that makes her weak. So I lie, and I threaten the people downstairs.

"Fine," she says bitterly. "But no one – "

I am on her before she realizes what's happening, my hand clamps down on her mouth again.

"Quiet," I whisper.

Some one is coming. I listen, the footsteps are heavy, determined. Most likely male, but I can't sense the heavy gait that I had seen Victor display earlier.

"Stay quiet and no one gets hurt," I hiss.

The footsteps are coming closer and I don't have much time to act. I leap off the bed and grab the lantern, slamming it down on the dresser to deactivate it, the room is thrown into complete and utter darkness.

"Lissa?" A distinctly male voice calls out. I could be mistaken, but I think I detect a faint Russian accent.

He's nearly here, I press my body against the wall, waiting for the door to open. It creaks open slowly, just as I slip my goggles on.

"Lissa?" He calls again, this time standing in the doorway.

It's the man, the one from before. I can see his long hair, it hangs loosely around his chin, framing his face.

_Irrelevant,_ I tell myself, _neutralize the threat._

But my god, he is so tall. I've been trained to take down opponents larger than myself, especially since they're almost always larger than me. I waste no more time, and with one low, sweeping kick, I have knocked his legs out from underneath him. He lets out a cry of surprise before crumpling to the ground. Before he has time to react, I wrap my forearm around his neck, my wrists find each other, interlocking with the other. My grip is textbook perfect, and I begin pulling back, using the full weight of my body to close down on his windpipe. He realizes I'm going to render him unconscious and I feel his fingers trying desperately to pry me away.

Vasilisa must realize something is wrong because she lets out a yelp, "Dimitri!"

All I need is a few more seconds, just a little bit more pressure. His fingers slip away and I feel his body go limp. My grip slackens, and I know I've succeeded. I remove the goggles and reignite the lantern by tapping it against the dresser once more.

Vasilisa gasps at the sight, but I ignore her. My fingers move to the maroon belt cinched at my waist, I remove it quickly and begin moving the man, whose name I now know is Dimitri, forward. I pull his arms behind his back and tie them together deftly with the belt.

Vasilisa leaps off of the bed, but I spin around to meet her. Dimitri slides to the floor with a thump, a tiny moan escaping his lips. She looks like she might attack me, but something about my demeanor makes her think again. Her eyes dart to wear Dimitri lays on the floor.

"You said no one would get hurt!"

"He's fine," I tell her. "Now go! Tell Victor before some one else comes up here."

She begins moving toward the door, but I grab her wrist before she's made it out. Her head whips around, her eyes wide with terror.

"Remember," I say through gritted teeth. "If you cross me, I'll call. And now you have him to worry about," I gesture toward Dimitri at the end of my threat for emphasis.

She rips her arm from my grasp and moves into the hallway. At this point, I don't care what she does, I'm in too deep. I can think of at least four times I have gone against Risk Prevention protocol tonight, just off the top of my head. It would probably be best if I just bust these people, have them arrested, and hope that I can find another way to speak with Victor before he is sent off to one of the rehabilitation camps.

Dimitri stirs behind me, and let's out a groan. Apparently I hadn't done as good a job as I had thought if he's already waking up. I slip my arms beneath his and try to drag him toward the wall so that I can prop him up, but it's no use. He is massive, and while I am strong, I'm not that strong. I decide to leave him where he is, lowering his torso gently onto the floor. His eyes flutter open, and I find myself staring into two endlessly deep, brown eyes. He blinks again in surprise, and then his face contorts in recognition. I pull out the knife that I always keep in my boot and press it against his throat before he can do anything else.

"Please don't," I say exasperatedly. "I'm tired, don't make me fight you."

"What have you done with Lissa?" He growls.

Of course that's what he wants to know. He tries to sit up, but I spin around from behind him and position myself on top of him, the knife never leaving his throat. Alberta would have been impressed. His arms are pinned beneath him, and his range of mobility is severely limited now that I am straddling him.

I look down at Dimitri, and to my surprise, my heart is racing. I am momentarily caught off guard by how, for lack of a better word…how beautiful he is. I force myself not to blush. I've been in this position before, well minus the knife. Though, not as many times as one might assume of a NAAMA soldier. Soldiers have a reputation for being…promiscuous. Boys and girls are raised together, we live together, train together, and well…it just kind of happens. Our superiors don't actually do anything to punish us for it either. If anything, we are encouraged to engage in sexual activities. We are the best humanity has to offer after all – the fiercest, the strongest, and the offspring of soldiers are considered to be superior to the offspring of civilians. If a female soldier gets pregnant, she is taken out of rotation until after she gives birth, and then the child is taken away to be raised in a military academy.

"Did you hurt her?" he shouts, his words pulling me from my reverie.

I apply pressure to the knife, not enough to draw blood, but enough to tell him I mean business. I bring my face closer to his, my long hair spilling over my shoulder, brushing against the floor beneath us.

"Quiet," I hiss. "What happens to her depends on your behavior."

He opens his mouth to speak, but his words fall short at the sound of footsteps.

"I'm going to let you sit up," I tell him calmly. "But one wrong move and I will bury this knife in her chest."

His expression darkens and his brown eyes are alight with rage and disgust. Again, I am bluffing, but he doesn't need to know that. Soldiers are known for being cold and heartless, and right now that is working to my advantage. Dimitri can't see the scared girl that I feel like most of the time, I can't betray any vulnerability. So I play the part.

I hesitate before climbing off of him just as Vasilisa opens the door. To my relief, and to my slight surprise, Victor is with her. Her eyes dart between the knife still clutched in my hand and where Dimitri still lays on the floor. She lets out a strangled cry before rushing to his side to help him sit up. I ignore them.

It's him.

Victor.

The man who knows what happened to my parents, what really happened.

He doesn't seem phased by my presence, or at the scene that is unfolding before him. He remains calm and he meets my gaze unflinchingly.

"Hello," he says, smiling. "Vasilisa tells me that you would like to have a chat."

**Hey everyone! I'm glad you guys like the story so far! And as for the relationship between Lissa and Dimitri goes, it's completely platonic I promise. I could have easily made Dimitri one of Rose's instructors, but I feel like that has been done to death. In the actual VA novels, Rose and Dimitri are brought together because his job is to protect Lissa, and I wanted to parallel that concept in this story. Also, I know Rose seems kind of heartless right now, but that won't last forever. I have my reasons I swear! Please let me know what you thought about this chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Vasilisa – _**

I turn my head over my shoulder to take one last fleeting glance at where Dimitri lays unconscious before stumbling out into the hallway on my shaky legs. I've never been a violent person, but in this moment, I could be. All I want to do is rush back in and tackle that investigator. I know it won't do me any good though. She had managed to take down Dimitri, a man nearly twice her size, in only a matter of seconds. I hadn't been able to see what was happening, but hearing the struggle was enough. Soldiers receive rigorous training at the military academies, they are deadly when they need to be. That girl is no exception. I clench my fists at the thought of her. I can still feel where her fingers had gripped my throat, and I can still see into her dark brown eyes. They were so devoid of emotion, so deadly. I wonder what has to go wrong in a person's life to cause them to live such a cruel existence?

_Stop it_, I scold myself.

_It doesn't matter why she is the way she is._

_She's a murderer, just like the rest of them._

My thoughts are sobering. I take a deep breath, gathering my resolve as I make my way down the staircase. The darkness forces me to move at an agonizingly slow pace, and I cling to the walls for support. I will myself to move faster, knowing that every second I waste brings the people downstairs closer to danger.

I finally manage to make my way into the abandoned unit. I can hear the soft murmur of voices, Victor in particular. He sounds so happy, so fulfilled. My heart slams against my chest from within, and with every beat I am filled with more dread at the thought of having to be the one to shatter that feeling.

I pull back the dark drapes and offer everyone seated a meal smile.

"Vasilisa," chimes Victor, face full of delight. "I was beginning to worry about you."

He is perched on a stool next to his chalkboard. I recognize the formula for velocity on its cracked surface.

"Uncle," I manage to choke out. "Might I have a word with you?"

Adrian is eyeing me suspiciously, but I do my best to put on a brave face. Victor is staring at my too, he opens his mouth to protest, but stops. Perhaps he can sense the fear radiating off of me, maybe my expression isn't as brave as I had wanted it to be. Whatever the reason, Victor nods at me gravely and then rises slowly to his feet. He follows me out of the warm circle of light and we are instantly swallowed by darkness the moment the curtain falls back into place.

"What's going on?" He asks me concernedly.

I reach my hands out in front of me. Once I can feel the rough texture of his thread spun tunic beneath my fingertips, I ball up my fists and pull him toward me. My lips are practically touching his ear as I stand on my tiptoes to whisper into it.

"She's here," I breathe. "You have to send them away, she has Dimitri."

Victor tenses in the darkness, and then moves his hands up to find mine. He gives them a gentle squeeze before returning to the others.

"Forgive me," he starts in a gentle tone. "But I fear Vasilisa has just informed that Dimitri has fallen ill. I must see to him."

There are a few murmurs of protest, but I eventually hear the scraping of chairs against the hard floor as people rise to their feet. Once all the candles have been snuffed out, those gathered each take the hand of the person nearest them. We form a long chain, with Victor and I bringing up the rear so that we are the last to leave.

Once we have said our goodbyes and everyone is safely out of our unit, Victor calls out to me.

"Vasilisa, what is going on?"

"There's no time," I tell him, trying to pull him after me. "The investigator is here, she has Dimitri, and she won't let him go unless she talks to you."

Silence follows, and I cannot help but get the feeling that Victor isn't all that surprised by the events that have unfolded here. We are almost to the stop of the stairs when I feel Victor come to a halt behind me.

"Lissa, wait," he says in a haggard voice. "We don't know what the investigator wants, but I want you to promise me that if something goes wrong, you will run."

"But – "

"Promise me!" He hisses.

"I promise."

He starts moving again and I waste no more time, throwing open the door to my bedroom. I wasn't sure what I had been expecting to find. Maybe for the investigator to be pacing the room, for Dimitri to still be knocked out, a part of me had even feared he was dead. I certainly hadn't expected to find the investigator straddling Dimitri as they stared into each other's eyes.

She leaps off of him as soon as she notices we have entered the room. My eyes dart to her hand, and I see that she is brandishing a knife. I shove last her and rush toward Dimitri, but it doesn't take me long to see that she hasn't hurt him, at least not where I can see.

I help him to sit up, and then move behind him to try and undo his wrists where she has bound them. Of course she used some ridiculous military-grade knot.

"Hello," I hear Victor say. "Vasilisa tells me that you would like to have a chat."

I look up to where the investigator stands, she is staring at Victor with wide eyes. It only takes her a moment to recover though. She whips around to look at where I sit next to Dimitri.

"Get out," she commands. "Both of you, get out of here."

I don't need to be told twice and I immediately stand trying to drag Dimitri up with me, but we are both struggling. She rolls her eyes and in a flash, she has hoisted him to his feet. Dimitri lunges at her as soon as he is able to, but she dodges effortlessly. The look on Dimitri's face tells me he doesn't plan on giving up any time soon, but the investigator just looks annoyed.

"Wait!" She says, holding up the knife in one hand. "See?" She asks. "I'm putting it away, no need for hostilities."

She slips the knife into her waistband. The top half of her jumpsuit is still unzipped from when she had shown me her beacon. Now it dangles between her breasts and the sight of it gives me an idea. If I some how managed to get it away from her, she would have no way of calling for help, she would have no leverage. Dimitri's eyes follow my gaze, and this time the investigator notices our stares.

"See something you like?" she asks, tucking the pendant back into her tank top.

She doesn't bothering zipping up her uniform though. I notice then that her arms are toned, and one of them is badly scarred. Again, I find myself wondering what kind of life she had led up until now.

"Now," she says, taking a step toward Dimitri. "I'm going to let you go. Don't make me regret it."

Dimitri doesn't flinch as her body moves closer to his. She whispers something to him as she moves behind him to undo his bonds. His expression darkens at her words and a chill runs over me. I have never seen him so angry.

As soon as Dimitri is free, he spins around, his fist raised. I feel so helpless, all I can do is brace myself and wait for the sickening, crunching sound of bone colliding with bone. But it never comes. Instead, she blocks his blow with one arm, and uses the other to deliver a swift punch to his gut. He doubles over in pain and I can tell that she has knocked the breath from his lungs.

She bends down, placing her hands on her knees so that she is eye level with him.

"Don't do that again," she warns. "I would hate to ruin such a pretty face."

Dimitri tenses, but before anyone moves, Victor decides to intervene,

"Enough," he thunders. "Dimitri, take Vasilisa downstairs please. Miss…what's your name, dear?"

The investigator looks up from her staring match with Dimitri and answers briskly, "Hathaway."

"Miss Hathaway isn't going to hurt me," he finishes.

Dimitri has since recovered, and he now looks at Victor skeptically.

"Do as I say," Victor tells him sternly.

Dimitri sneers at the investigator one final time before reaching toward me and snatching my hand. He drags me out of the bedroom, and I hear the sound of the door closing behind me. I struggle against his hold, trying desperately to get back to Victor.

"No!" I tell him. "We have to go back!"

"I will go back, as soon as I know you're safe," he says, still pulling me behind him.

"What are you going to do?" I ask pleadingly. "What can we do?"

"I'll report her to the authorities," he answers.

"No!" I practically scream. "No! You can't can't do that. Don't you get it? She is the authority! If we report her, she'll report him. We were breaking the law, Dimitri! They'll take him away, they'll take you away!" I am hysterical at this point, and it's all I can do to not break down completely.

"Shh," Dimitri whispers to me, turning to cup my face in his hands. "No one is going to take me away. Victor knows what he's doing. He'll figure this out."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "She wants something."

"What?" asks Dimitri. "What does she want? How do you know?"

I bite my lip as I ponder his question. "If she wanted to report us, she would have. She wants something, and she thinks Victor can give it to her. I just don't know what it is."

"There's one way to find out," he whispers to me.

I don't need him to elaborate. I drop to my hands and knees and start crawling down the hallway. Light is shining out from beneath the crack of my door, and it is a strange sight.

Once I reach the door, I raise myself up on my knees and press my ear to the keyhole. Dimitri has his ear pressed to the floor. We wait with baited breath, trying to make out the voices.

"Ibrahim and Janine," says the girl urgently. "Do you know them?"

Victor pauses before answering, "Hmm…they do seem familiar, but my memory just isn't what it used to be."

"I have ways of helping you remember."

"Now, now," tuts Victor. "Threats will get you no where, especially empty ones. We both know that I am the only one who can give you what you want."

"So you do know them?"

"Perhaps, but that is valuable information. Besides, how do I know you won't turn me in the moment I give up what I know?"

"What do you want?" the agent asks bitterly.

"Your name, for starters."

"I already told you."

"Your full name."

She hesitates before answering, "Rosemarie Hathaway."

"My, what a pretty name…Rosemarie."

"What else?" she snaps.

"I want to trust you, Rosemarie. I can help you, but first, I need to trust you."

"And how would a soldier like myself go about gaining the trust of such a venerable scholar?"

"I have a task in mind. Help me, so that I can help you."

I pull my ear away from the door, not wanting to hear any more. Victor is trying to reason with this…this monster. He is making a deal with the devil. My stomach rolls at the thought of what she is capable of doing. She could destroy our lives. No matter what her motives, no matter what her name is or how she was brought up, she is still an investigator for the Risk Prevention Department. I hate her and everything that she stands for.

Victor and I didn't always live in the Midwestern Province. When the Pulse happened, I had been living with my parents in Portland. Victor is my father's brother, and he helped us to escape the city before it fell into complete chaos. We eventually met up with a few other refugees and formed our own only little community, we had a simple life, but a stable one. Then Tasha Ozera came into power, and things grew more complicated. She dissolved the state system and began reorganizing the country into provinces and compounds. People were being uprooted and forced to move across the county. She also created the RPD.

I had been playing in the room of our little home that had served as a nursery when it happened. I remember that the floor was dirt, and that the walls were thin. I didn't mind though. I would always draw in the dirt with my little fingers. My father and I would draw pictures and write words. It is one of the only memories I have of him.

I was playing by myself when I heard shouting. Victor burst into the nursery and scooped me into his arms. I was confused, my uncle was always so calm, but he had been frantic then.

"Time to go, Vasilisa." He whispered to me as he cradled me in his arms.

He ran with me through the backdoor of our home, he ran like his life depended on it. I don't remember much after that – just fleeting images and sounds – flames, and bullets, the sound of my mother screaming. The investigators had come for my parents, and Victor and I had only narrowly escaped with our lives.

The door opens just then, pulling me from my anguished thoughts. I stand up immediately, and find myself staring into the eyes of Rosemarie Hathaway.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Rose – **_

Victor stares at me appraisingly, "I want to trust you, Rosemarie. I can help you, but first, I need to trust you."

"And how would a soldier like myself go about gaining the trust of such a venerable scholar?" I mean for my words to be a joke.

Victor smiles at me, but the smile does not reach his eyes. He slowly walks past where I stand in the center of the room so that he can ease himself down onto the bed. Even though his jade green eyes are alert, they are sunken and heavy bags hang beneath them. I make a mental note to have Eddie look into his medical history.

"I have a task in mind," he tells me. "Help me, so that I can help you."

"What kind of a task?" I ask him incredulously.

He lets out a soft chuckle, "We shall discuss that at a later time. Right now, I fear our conversation is no longer private."

I let out a long sigh as I run my fingers through my ponytail. I've been searching for a lead on Ibrahim and Janine for almost three years, and now that I have one, I find myself hesitating.

_He could be lying._

_He could be trying to trick you._

_He might not even know them._

The possibilities are endless, despite all of my training, and the skills I have developed, this decrepit old man could screw me over ten ways to Sunday if I am caught doing whatever it is that he wants. I have a feeling whatever it is, I'm going to have to risk my life to accomplish it.

"Fine," I say resting my hands on hips. "But be warned, if you or that doe-eyed little girl you keep around even thinks about crossing me, I will not hesitate to turn the both of you in."

Victor's expression, which has remained relatively calm throughout our conversation, turns stormy. "Threaten me all you'd like, but if you touch a hair on that girl's head – "

I take a step toward him, "You'll what? Who will you go to? Who would believe you?"

Victor doesn't bother responding, we both know that I am right. But my hands are tied as well, I can't report them or have them arrested. They would be taken away, and with them, the knowledge of what happened to Ibrahim and Janine. I know what my choice has to be, but a lump has formed in my throat nonetheless.

I swallow hard, "I think we're done here."

"I'm sure you'll be in touch," he tells me knowingly.

I wait for him to rise, and then together we head for the door. As soon as I turn the knob and open the door, I see the reason for Victor's need to end our conversation. Vasilisa is standing in the doorway, her green eyes full of malice.

"Didn't your mother teach you it's rude to eavesdrop?" I ask as I brush past her and Dimitri.

I don't bother turning around to gauge her expression, I can practically feel her vibrating with rage.

"You left your light source," she calls after me bitterly.

"Keep it," I say, waving my hand over my shoulder. "Something tells me that you need it more than I do."

It takes all of my willpower not to bolt out of the housing unit. I force myself to keep a steady pace, because I know that Dimitri is following me. I pretend not to notice and I let him tail me as far as the front door before whirling around to confront him. The sun has risen and the little shafts of light coming through the cracks and windows of the front door light up his features.

"Back for more?" I ask him tauntingly. I know I should stop antagonizing him, but I can't help it.

"What do you want with Victor?" he growls at me in a low voice.

"I thought you heard the whole thing," I tell him, raising my eyebrows. "Victor and I are going to help each other out. We've made a deal of sorts, nothing for you to worry about."

He stares at me with flame filled eyes, "If you hurt – "

I cut him off, not wanting to hear what I know he's going to tell me. "I'm not gonna hurt your little girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," he spits venomously.

"Irrelevant," I tell him, even though my racing heart is telling me either wise. "I'm not here to torment civilians, I just want information.

"As soon as you get whatever it is that you want, you're out of here." His tone is laced with hatred, a hatred I know I probably deserve.

"You don't get to tell me what to do," I fire back.

His arms lash out and grab my shoulders, I am tired and my reaction time isn't what it usually is. I let him force me back and pin me against the wall. He lowers his face to mine, letting only a few inches separate us. His eyes bore into mine, and as he stares, his expression softens just a little.

"I don't know what the RPD wants with Victor, but I'm not going to let them get it," he hisses.

My breathing is heavy and I find myself at a loss words, but only for a moment. "Im not here as a soldier or as an investigator," I tell him levelly. "I'm just a girl right now, and I need Victor's help." I hope my words are convincing as I try to appeal to his more compassionate side.

It doesn't work.

He snorts in disgust as he steps back, releasing me from his grip, "Just a girl…a girl who threatened to bury a knife in Lissa's chest!"

"I didn't actually make good on that threat," I scoff, crossing my arms in front of my chest protectively. "In case you didn't notice."

"Victor might think he can work with you, but I don't buy your bullshit 'Im here for me act,' Im watching you."

I turn and grip the knob, "Then I'll be sure to make it interesting for you," and with that, I am out the door.

The chilly air hits me like a slap in the face, reminding me that the upper half of my jumpsuit still dangles from my waist. I slip one arm into the sleeve, and then the other. I zip it up, but it's too late. The cold is already seeping into my bones, and I shiver uncontrollably. I realize though, that maybe the cold isn't the only reason I am shaking.

Dimitri is dangerous, and not just because he is a 6'7" man who has been performing manual labor all his life. I think back to when he had me pinned against the walls of the entryway. He is strong, and I could tell that most of his body is covered in lean muscle. He is protective too, his role in Victor's life will complicate matters, as if they aren't already complicated enough.

_Deal with him later, _I tell myself.

_You did it, you found Victor, and now you're one step closer to finding them._

I usually only refer to them by their names. It's too hard to call them what they really are – my parents.

When I was old enough to start questioning such matters, I went to one of my instructors and asked where I came from.

"You're going to have to be more specific," said Stan Alto.

"I mean where did I come from? Who are my parents? Are they soldiers like you?"

Alto had laughed cruelly at my inquiry. "Your parents were nobody's. We picked you off the streets of Chicago and you've been here ever since."

I was confused by just about every part of his explanation, but mostly because I had no idea what Chicago was. I also knew that I had to come from somewhere. I let it go though. It wasn't uncommon for a kid raised in the academy to be unsure of their parentage. Most of us are orphans, left over from the damage caused by the Pulse. There was nothing suspicious about what Alto told me, so I hadn't questioned it.

Nearly a decade later, the night before my graduation ceremony, I had awoken to a sac being thrown over my head, and to my arms being pinned behind my back. I had screamed and thrashed about, but it was to no avail, I was grossly outnumbered. After letting me simmer for about an hour, my captors revealed themselves to be newly inducted RPD investigators. It was common knowledge that I was slated to join their ranks, and so they had taken it upon themselves to have a little induction ceremony of their own.

"Hello, Rose."

It took me a moment to figure out who the voice belonged to. "Christian Ozera, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

He yanked the bag off of my head, and I found myself staring into a pair of icy blue eyes.

"You're graduating tomorrow," he told me matter of factly. "And then you're going to become one of us," he said gesturing to the other people who I had just now noticed were standing in my bedroom.

"That doesn't explain why you're here."

"Your instructors might have chosen you," he said with a smirk. "Now _we_ get to choose you."

"No thanks," I said, feigning a yawn. "I'm kind of tired."

He reached out a hand to grip my chin, forcing me to make eye contact with him. I forced myself to stare back unflinchingly. I betrayed none of the apprehension I felt.

"Scared, Hathaway?"

I let out a snort at his call to action, "What did you have in mind?"

As it turned out, RPD hazing involved escaping from the ropes that bound my wrist, and sneaking into the administrative building in my underwear to find the flag that had been planted there earlier today.

"We expect you to have the flag with you tomorrow," Christian warned before leaving me to my own devices. "Don't screw up."

I laid back on my bed, contemplating whether or not I would go along with this ridiculous prank. My own intrigue got the best of me, and soon I kicked my legs back as far as they would go. My knees were practically touching the sides of my head as I maneuvered my hands down past my tailbone and eventually passed my thighs. I wriggled my arms forward until I could pull my legs through them one at a time, like threading a needle. Once my arms were tied in front of me, as opposed to behind my back, I was able to saw through the bonds easily with a knife that I held wedged between my knees.

_This is kindergarten shit, _I murmured to myself.

I pulled on my combat boots and slipped out of the dormitories. Sneaking across the campus to where the administrative building stood was simple enough, just a matter of sticking to the shadows and avoiding patrols. Getting into the building itself proved to be a little more difficult. I scanned the building, trying to assess any weak points. My eyes fell on a window that had been left open. It was on the third floor and something told me that this wasn't an accident, it was a test.

I swore to myself and said a silent prayer, one where I vowed to knee Christian in the groin the next time I saw him.

I approached the front doors of the building slowly, making sure that no one was around to see me scale the building half-naked. I stood beneath a flagpole that was welded at a ninety degree angle to the left of the entrance. I took a deep breath and then bent my knees low so that I could push off the ground with as much force as possible. I leapt into the air and was able to grab the pole without much difficulty. Not wanting to waste any time, I began moving my body backward and forward, trying to gain some momentum. Once I had picked up enough speed, I released the bars, hoping that the momentum was enough to propel me forward to where I needed to go. I reached out my hands in front of me as I flew through the air and only barely managed to cling to the ledge of one of the windows lining the second floor.

I let out another curse as I dangled from the ledge. My right arm was screaming out in pain, it had been the only thing to catch my fall, and it now held all of my weight. I reached out my left hand and brought it up to join the other. This was already not worth it.

I inched my hands along the ledge. Once I had reached the end of the outcropping, I braced myself. I rocked my legs back and forth again, and eventually was able to swing one up so that it clipped the edge. I took a deep breath and then used all of my strength to pull the rest of my body up. Once I was relatively safe, perched on the outside of the building like a gargoyle, I paused to take a deep breath, and then went back to work.

What I had in mind was stupid, but I didn't really see another way around it.

I stood up on the ledge, and once I had steadied myself, I looked up. My plan had worked out so far, and I was currently positioned directly beneath the open window.

_Here goes nothing._

I jumped up toward the ledge, not really sure if I had the strength to make the distance. My hands grazed the stone, and against all odds, I managed to grab ahold of the windowsill. Once I had pulled myself up and over, I toppled through the window, breathless from the exertion. Luckily, Christian and his friends weren't that big of assholes, and I saw that a crimson pennant lay draped over a table in the darkened room. I stood up, and despite how annoyed I was at being dragged out of bed, I found myself grinning. I snatched up the flag and was turning to leave, when I finally noticed where I was. The walls were lined with filing cabinets, each bearing a letter of the alphabet. These were personnel records. Ever since the Event, the military and the government made hard copies of everything, not wanting to risk losing it all if we were ever faced with another EMP.

I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't help myself. I tucked the flag in my waistband and made a beeline for the cabinet labeled H. I sifted through thick folders until I found the one labeled _Hathaway._

Mine was much thicker than the others, and upon further investigation, I realized it was because of all the times I'd been in trouble. They had documented everything – from the time I had thrown a book at my teacher and called him a fascist bastard, to the time I had orchestrated a party in one of the dorms. I was just about to return the file to its home when something caught my eye.

I turned to a tab labeled _Lineage._

There were two photos paperclipped to the cover page. One was of a man, with dark skin and dark eyes – my eyes. Beneath the photo, it read Ibrahim Mazur in bold letters. The other photo was of a woman. She had short, curly red hair and a light dusting of freckles, beneath her photo, the caption read Janine Hathaway. I knew without a doubt who they were.

Stan had lied to me, or maybe hadn't known. I couldn't be sure and so I had read further.

**Residence: Chicago**

**Janine Hathaway, Profession: Mechanical Engineer**

**Ibrahim Mazur, Profession: Unknown**

**Offspring: Rosemarie Hathaway**

_No…my mother had been the very thing I had been trained to hunt down._

_She wasn't a nobody, they knew exactly who she was._

I read further, my hands shaking.

**Current whereabouts: Presumed dead**

**Cause of Death: Classified**

I slammed the folder shut, my vision blurred by the tears that had begun forming in my eyes. I had to get out of there.

_Classified…dead…engineer._

The words swirled in my head like a maelstrom the whole way back to my dorm.

I had parents.

And they were probably dead.

The next day, I walked across the stage with a crimson flag draped across my shoulders. Christian and his friends had whooped and hollered, and at the end of all of it, I kneeled before the NAAMA flag next to my fellow graduates and swore an oath. Only my oath was different, I wasn't swearing to uphold the law, or to serve my country and our Executor. I swore vengeance.


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter is rated M**

**_Vasilisa – _**

I stare at the lantern that Rose left on my dresser. A part of me wants to throw it across the room, to slam it against the dresser until it shatters into a hundred tiny pieces. The other part of me knows that she is right.

_Something tells me that you need it more than I do._

How many times had I awoken in the middle of the night with my heart racing, breathing shallow, and cursing the darkness? How many times had I pleaded with no one in particular, begging whatever entity was listening, to lift the veiled curtain of black?

_Too many times._

But she gave it to me. I hate that Rose was the one to chase the shadows away. I am so confused by her – I know what she is, an investigator, a trained killer, a sworn servant of Executor Ozera. Yet, she hadn't reported us, she needed Victor's help, and she had left me her lantern.

"Lissa?" Dimitri's voice calls, pulling me from my revery.

I don't particularly want to talk to him, I had followed him down the stairs when he trailed after Rose and had tried to eavesdrop on their conversation. I hadn't been able to decipher any of what they had been saying. It was all heated whispers, and at one point I had dared a peak into the entryway and found Rose pinned up against the paneled walls, Dimitri's face mere inches away. The sight had disgusted me.

"Lissa?" he calls again.

I can't explain the swirling feelings within me, but I know he has done nothing to deserve it, he just wants to protect me.

"I'm in here," I tell him, hoping he can hear my voice as it floats down the hallway.

I hear the sound of heavy footsteps and a few moments later, Dimitri is standing in my doorway. He leans against the frame and stares at me appraisingly.

"Are you alright?" he asks, voice filled with concern.

I am sitting on my bed, and at his words I pull my knees to my chin and wrap my arms around them protectively. "I'm fine," I say, a little more bitterly than I had intended to.

He takes a few hesitant steps toward me, "She didn't hurt you, did she?"

I let out a deep sigh, and try to force my annoyance out along with the breath. "No," I tell him, feeling a little guilty for behaving so childishly. "She didn't hurt me, you're the one who took a beating."

His jaw is pulled tight and his face is expressionless, "It was dark."

I realize then that he probably doesn't want to be reminded that he was rendered unconscious by a girl half his size.

"You shouldn't blame yourself, she's had years of training," I offer, trying to nurse his wounded pride.

He crosses to me and sits down on the edge of the bed, but keeps his eyes trained on the hard ground beneath him. He is bent forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his dark hair hanging in front of his face like a curtain.

"Besides, you didn't seem to mind that last part," I say teasingly.

He tenses. My attempt to lighten the mood has backfired.

"Which part?"

"Uh," I stutter, Unable to conjure an alternative thought, I decide to just stick with my original line of thinking. "The part where I found her on top of you."

He turns to stare at me incredulously, but despite his attempts at remaining stoic and impassive, his cheeks flush at my accusation.

"I can say with complete certainty that I mind everything about Rose Hathaway."

There is something about the way he says her name that makes me think otherwise. His tongue rolls over every syllable with care, and he seems to mull the name over and picture her even as he speaks.

"What did she say to you?" I ask, recalling how she had whispered to him, "Before she untied you earlier?"

His eyes flicker away from me and his lips form a thin straight line. "She was reminding me of an earlier promise she had made," he told me, voice taught as a wire.

I barely manage to stifle a small choking sound, "Oh yeah? A promise she made to you while she had her legs wrapped around your waist?"

"It was more of a threat if you must know," he snaps. "One involving you and a dagger."

"Oh," is all I can say.

Dimitri changes the subject just then "Who do you think they are?"

"Who?" I ask, not quite sure what he's referring to.

"Janine and…whoever that other guy was," he says as he brushes a lock of dark hair behind his ear.

I hadn't given much thought to what Rose had been questioning Victor about, I had been too distracted by him agreeing to help an investigator. "I don't know, probably some poor librarians the RPD wants executed."

"I'm not so sure," he muses.

"You're not serious are you?" My voice is laced with contempt, "Is that what you two were whispering about downstairs? How she's actually on some noble quest to find two missing civilians?"

Dimitri visibly recoils and I instantly regret snapping at him.

"Actually," he says coolly, "I was making a few threats of my own."

"What are you getting at then, Dimitri?" I ask, rubbing my temples with the tips of my fingers. "You don't think think she's doing the RPD's bidding, but you decide to threaten her anyways?"

"I didn't say that."He lets out a sigh before continuing. "It's just that…the more I think about what's happened, the more it seems like maybe she's acting of her own accord."

I can hardly believe what I'm hearing, Dimitri is defending Rose.

"So what if she is? That doesn't change the fact that she attacked me and held a knife to your throat. She's dangerous," I tell him, rising to my feet. "And if she's motivated by something other than the brainwashing that goes on within the walls of the academies, then that makes her even more dangerous."

I turn and head toward the dresser. I grip the lantern as tightly as I can and bang it forcefully against the surface. The light radiating from it disappears, but my room remains well lit. Little shafts of sunlight spill in from the window and dance across my floor, but the sight of them doesn't bring me any joy. I am reminded of the fact that I have not slept in 24 hours. The adrenaline that had started coursing though my veins during my first encounter with Rose has all but disappeared. I am exhausted, my limbs feel like led, and my eyes burn.

I long to climb into bed, to shut my eyes and let myself slip into oblivion, but I know I can't. I begin making my way out of the room when Dimitri calls out to me.

"What are you doing?" He asks, rising from the bed.

I turn to face him, he looks how I feel. "I need to find Victor."

"Oh," he says blankly. "He's probably already gone."

"What?" I ask desperately. "What do you mean? Where is he going? Is this about Rose?"

Dimitri takes a step towards me, his hands raised like maybe he intends to embrace me, "Lissa, calm down," he tells me. "Victor said he needed to speak with our supervisor about being excused from work today, he asked me to check on you and to tell you that he would speak with you soon."

"Don't you think that was something you should have mentioned to me sooner?" I scold, placing my hands on my hips.

He looks down at his feet shamefully, "He may have asked me to give him a head start."

"That man," I grumble under my breath as I walk out of the room, "is too smart for his own good."

I decide to skip my daily ice bath, and don't even bother changing out of the clothes I had donned the day before. Inside, I am a bubbling mixture of extreme fatigue and lazy contempt. Outside, I am nothing but wrinkled fabric and a scowl that I suspect will be plastered on my face for the remainder of the day.

Dimitri and I part ways as the bell tolls, he heads for the fields, and I make my way toward the RDC. My thoughts drift to Rose as I pass the schoolyard, her education was probably nothing like my own. She had probably been learning how to kill someone using only her left pinky finger when I had been learning the alphabet. She would have had multiple instructors, and I had only ever learned from Victor. Rose had grown up with little lanterns, and I was afraid of the dark.

By the time I actually arrive at work, I am filled with a renewed hatred of her. My rage reaches its boiling point when I see her leaning up against the entrance of the RDC, her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. I know that she's probably been awake for as long as I have, maybe even longer, but you can't tell. Her dark hair is loose and it spills down her shoulders in rolling waves, her skin is tanned and luminous, and her jumpsuit clings to every curve. No wonder Dimitri had tried to defend her earlier. If a girl like that had climbed on top of me, I would probably do whatever she wanted, and not because she was holding a knife to my throat.

I stiffen as I walk past her, choosing to just pretend she isn't there. She follows me into the building and down the long corridor. I am able to sneak past Cal's office without too much trouble. Once I've reached the front counter, I set my bag down and fish my keys from my coat pocket.

"So," says Rose as she leans against the counter. "You look well rested."

I choose not to dignify her comment with a response, I simply unlock the bars that separate me from the civilians who will start arriving soon.

"Vasilisa?" Cal's voice calls from down the hall. "Would you come here for a moment?"

Rose looks at me expectantly, and I do my best to keep my face blank. I turn on my heel and stalk off. On the way to Cal's office, I ponder which of them I would shoot if we were all locked in a room and I had a gun with only one bullet.

Cal is seated in a tufted armchair behind his desk, but stands up as soon as I enter the room. He grins at me and I barely manage to keep the bile in my throat from rising. Cal reaches down and pulls his pants up, but it is no use. His large belly won't allow his pants to go any higher and I fear for the structural integrity of his bottoms.

"Have a seat," he says, motioning to the tiny folding chair to my right.

I sit down, grateful that there is a large wooden desk separating us. He begins rifling through the papers on his desk, and then sits down once he has found whatever it is that he's looking for.

"Vasilisa," he starts. "I'm afraid we've got a bit of a situation on our hands."

My heart is thundering in my chest. I would have bet my life that this has something to do with Rose.

_Why else would she have been waiting for me this morning?_

"A situation?" I manage to say, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

He glances down at the papers clutched in his hand, and then back up at me. I decide to keep my head bowed, and stare at my hands as I cradle them in my lap.

"Well, there have been a few discrepancies in what you've reported, and what resources we still have in our stores."

I let a tiny sigh of relief escape my lips, this isn't about Rose, this is about me turning a blind eye on citizens who take more food or more medicine from the Resource Distribution Center than they're supposed to.

I stare up at him through my lashes, trying to seem as docile and innocent as possible. "Discrepancies?" I ask in a sweet, small voice.

"We're missing a lot of food, Vasilisa. There are huge gaps in your reports."

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice cracking just a little. "I must have made a mistake, sometimes I'm just so overwhelmed by the numbers…"

I glance up at him and see him regarding me suspiciously. I'm not sure he believes me, my job is essentially just counting sacs of flour and cans of meat.

"Well, Vasilisa, perhaps we could come to some sort of an agreement," he croons. "That way I won't have to report this to the Resource Auditors."

I don't like where this is going, "What kind of an agreement?" I ask, no longer needing to feign apprehension or fear.

Cal steps around his desk so that he is standing in front of me. I'm still sitting in the rickety chair, and I sink back into it as far as I can go. He looks down at me, a hungry glint in his ruddy brown eyes.

"Well," he says, licking his lips. "You're a beautiful girl, Vasilisa…"

He bends down so that he is eye level with me. He places one hand on his knee and then brings the other up to cup my chin. His touch makes my stomach sink.

"Maybe you could persuade me to burn those incriminating reports."

He is only a few inches away now, I want to scream, but my throat feels raw and tight. Cal comes even closer, he is about to close the gap between our mouths completely when I lash out, striking him in the gut with my tiny fist. He doubles over at first but recovers quickly. Before I can bolt from the room, he grabs me by the wrist and yanks me back toward him. My back is pressed against his chest and I can feel his hot breath on my neck. I struggle against his hold but he manages to swing me around and pushes me onto his desk, my face pressed into a pile of papers. I try to scream, to call for help, but all I can manage is a choking sob.

Cal keeps one hand pressed on my back and uses the other to push my dress up past my thighs. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself, but a moment later, he is gone.

I hear a loud crash, I whip around to find Cal, lying on the ground, a small brunette figure on top of him. I hear a series of sick crunching noises as her fists connect with his face over and over again. Cal who had been thrashing beneath her, goes still. Rose doesn't seem to notice though, and her blows keep coming.

"Rose!" I scream throwing my arms around her waist. "Rose stop!"

I pull back, using all of my weight to bring her with me. I give one final heave and we toppled to the ground together. Rose is on her knees in a flash, and her dark eyes dart over to me. I suddenly feel exposed under her countenance, and I try to stand up and pull my dress down to cover my bear legs. She is one her feet before me and she reaches two battered and bloody hands down to help lift me.

"Rose," I whisper in a small voice.

"Not here," she says tugging me out of Cal's office.

I glance over my shoulder at where he lies on the floor. His eyes are swollen shut and his lip is cut and bleeding, but his chest rises and falls with each breath.

"What about Cal?" I hiss as she continues to pull me along.

"I'll take care of it," she says in a barely audible whisper.

I stumble after her, my legs barely able to support my own weight they are shaking so badly. Before I can stop to protest, Rose has swung my arm over her shoulder and is half carrying me out of the RDC. She doesn't walk toward my unit though, she is headed toward the Embassy building where visiting military officers and diplomats usually stay.

She leads me through a backdoor and up a stairwell. A few minutes later, I find myself sitting in what I assume is Rose's suite. She walks me over to the bed where she helps me to sit down. She is gentle, her demeanor no longer resembling the soldier I had met last night.

"Stay here," she commands.

Before I can utter a word, she slips out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

**Leave me a review and let me know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

**_Rose – _**

My hands shake violently as I open the door to leave, I can't let her see me like this. I'm not sure if Vasilisa trusts me enough to actually stay put in my room at the Embassy, my only hope is that her own fear will be enough to keep her here. My vision is tinged with red as I step out into the corridor. I sink to the floor, leaning against the door as I do. I close my eyes and try to figure out how I'm going to explain what had happened with Vasilisa and her supervisor. The only thing I can think of is to return to the RDC to finish what I'd started.

_He doesn't deserve to survive, not after what he tried to do._

I had overheard most of their conversation. It sounded like Vasilisa had been fudging the numbers on her reports so that the other citizens could get more food and medicine from the RDC. Something about that didn't surprise me, it was stupid and dangerous, but it was so like something a person like Vasilisa would do. I thought she'd done a pretty good job of acting like an innocent girl who'd made a few mistakes. The supervisor didn't buy it though, and I'd heard him proposition her. The way he had said the word beautiful made the word feel dirty and I wasn't sure it would ever lose that taint in my mind.

By this point, I had decided to position myself closer to the entrance to his office, just in case I needed to intervene. I was prepared to yell, to use my status within the military to scare that scumbag into submission. I wasn't prepared for the sounds of an altercation, or what I'd found when I'd stepped into the office. Vasilisa had been bent over a desk, sobbing, while a man tried to shove her dress up over thighs. I didn't need any context to figure out what his plans for her were.

Something inside me had snapped.

Before I could even consciously register my own body's movement, I had lunged across the room and seized Cal by the back of the neck with a savage grip. He had never seen me coming, and a mixture of surprise and anger flashed on his already twisted features. That anger had warped into a desperate fear when I slammed him to the ground with bone-shattering force. All of my training and all of the protocol that had been drilled into my head vanished, and I had been overcome with a carnal rage. I curled each hand into a fist and had hit him over and over again. I had hit him until he'd gone limp beneath me, but I couldn't stop. A voice in the back of my head had been screaming, willing me to stop, but another, much louder voice had been there too. It urged me on, it told me that this wasn't just some rapist pig, he was Tasha Ozera, he was the reason my parents were dead, he was everything wrong with NAAMA. I wanted to kill him, and I probably would have if Vasilisa hadn't found a way to pull me off of him.

Her voice had brought me back, and after I'd made sure she wasn't hurt, I had gotten her to safety.

Now I am sitting outside of my room, my head cradled in my hands, with hot angry tears trickling down my cheeks. I can't remember the last time I actually cried. It makes me feel weak.

I take a deep calming breath and then force myself to stand up. I wipe away the tears with the sleeve of my jumpsuit, pain surging through my body as I do. I notice then that my hands are swollen and covered with dried blood. A quick assessment of my injuries tells me that I have probably fractured my left index finger. I bite down on my lip, drawing blood, deciding that my hands can wait. First, I need to do something about Cal.

I slip back into the RDC and creep back down the hallway and into Cal's office. He is conscious and has rolled over onto his stomach. He doesn't notice me at first, and I watch as he tries to drag himself toward the desk, probably hoping to use it to help him stand. The sight of him makes my blood boil and it takes every ounce of my self control not to snap his neck.

I clear my throat, and he freezes. Cal's head turns slowly to where I stand, a look of sheer panic on his swollen face. His eyes are barely slits, but I can still see the fear in them. I stride toward him and he resumes his struggle, clawing desperately at the edge of the desk.

When I reach him, I crouch down beside him. He smells of blood, sweat, and urine. The odor is overpowering, but I ignore it as I wind one fist tightly in his hair. I yank his head back and he lets out a choked scream as I do.

"You are pathetic," I hiss into his ear. "You don't deserve to live."

All Cal can do is whimper as I force him to look at me.

"But you don't deserve the mercy of a quick death either. What am I going to do with you, Cal?" I tut, as if I were pondering something as casual as what I wanted to eat for dinner.

"Please," he gasps. "It won't happen again –"

I jerk his head back before he can finish his sentence, "Making promises about matters of which I am already certain won't save you. I already know it won't happen again. You will never look at Vasilisa again, if you do – it will be the last time you have eyes."

His face, covered in purple bruises, pales at my words.

"Here's what's going to happen," I tell him, venom lacing my every syllable. "I am going to report you for stealing from the Resource Distribution Center, and by extension, all of NAAMA and Executor Ozera herself. You will be arrested and sent to a rehabilitation camp."

I let go of his hair and let him slump to the ground with a thud. Cal manages to push himself up onto his elbows to glare at me menacingly.

"You can't do that," he says, spraying flecks of blood as he does.

"I can," I tell him, sifting through the papers on his desk. "I've got all the proof I need right here." I hold up Vasilisa's reports in my hands. "Not that I need it, I'm an investigator, my word alone is enough to have you executed for treason."

Cal blanches, my words hitting him like a slap in the face.

"You attacked me," he stammers out, probably trying to strike some kind of a deal with me. "You attacked a civilian."

I shrug, "I'll just claim that after I approached you with my suspicions about resources being hoarded, you attacked me. It was self defense."

I have him backed into a corner now, he knows that there is no way out.

"I suggest you get yourself cleaned up, a line has probably formed at the counter by now."

I sweep past him, stopping only to kick him in the ribs for good measure.

…

I fold the papers into one of the pockets of my jumpsuit as I leave through the back door of the RDC. My hands stay concealed in the pockets, hiding the bruises and blood from the wondering eyes of civilians as I make my toward the gates of the compound. I am grateful for the cold air, it stings my cheeks, forcing me to remain alert. I am running on fumes, and can't remember the last time I slept.

Once I reach the gates, I order the guards to let me pass. They're confused, but eventually they comply. I scan the fields, searching for Victor, but I can't seem to find him anywhere. My eyes fall on a large bearded man, wearing a khaki colored jumpsuit. He must be the supervisor.

He stiffens at my approach, "What can I do for you?" He asks me in a gruff voice.

"I'm looking for Victor Dashkov."

"He isn't here. I spoke with him this morning, he's fallen quite ill."

I narrow my eyes in suspicion, but the man speaks before I can question him further.

"What's this about?"

"Nothing that concerns you," I tell him coolly. "That will be all."

I turn on my heel and am making my way back toward the gates when I hear someone call out to me.

"Rose!"

Dimitri is jogging toward me, his long brown hair blown back as he does.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, his face perfectly blank.

"You can't call me that," I say in a low voice. "And I need to find Victor, is he actually sick?"

Dimitri's face registers surprise for only the briefest of moments, "Yes, he is. Can't this wait until later? Why do you need to speak with him right now?"

He is looking at me with those deep, brown eyes, and something about his countenance makes me think that I can tell him what happened. I find myself wanting to confide in him, to trust him, something I've never wanted before. I'm not the one who needs to be comforted though. Vasilisa needs some one, and Dimitri will probably serve that purpose just as well as Victor would have.

"I need you to come with me." I set off at a brisk pace, not bothering to see if he is following me. I know he will.

It isn't long before he is able to catch up with me. "Something is wrong," he tells me knowingly. "What happened? Is this about Lissa?"

I wait until we have cleared the gates before speaking. "Has she ever mentioned anything to you about her supervisor?"

"Cal?" he asks, his voice a little shocked. "Yeah, she doesn't really like the guy, but he's harmless."

I bite back the urge to scoff at his claim. "No," I say bitterly. "I don't think harmless is the word I would use to describe Cal."

Dimitri tenses at my words, but does not falter as he walks beside me. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I was at the RDC this morning, I'd gone there to…reassure Vasilisa, to try and reason with her."

Dimitri let out a snort of disbelief.

I choose to ignore his dig, "He called her into his office, and he accused her of stealing from the RDC, and then he tried to make a deal with her…"

This time Dimitri does stop and after a few strides, I stop too.

"What kind of a deal?"

I want to stare at the ground or at the sky, any place but into his eyes, which are cold and calculating.

"I think you already know what kind of deal," I say, trying to keep my tone devoid of emotion as I do.

Dimitri is able to close the distance between us with one smooth step, and then he grips my shoulders tightly, "Where is he? I'll kill him!"

"I took care of him; he isn't going to bother her any more."

Dimitri doesn't let go of me, his eyes are washing over me, searching for any sign that I might be lying to him.

_He doesn't trust me. _

"Let me go," I say, wrestling free of his hold, "and I'll take you to her."

I start to walk away again. After a few moments, I can hear his footsteps, but he doesn't walk beside me.

I lead him through the same backdoor of the Embassy that I had taken Vasilisa. Before I let him into my room, I turn to warn him.

"She's a little shaken up, but I think she's okay."

He lets out a grunt of acknowledgement and then pushes past me and into the room.

"Dimitri!" I hear Vasilisa cry.

Apparently she had decided to listen to me. I guess that's something.

When I finally enter the room, I see that she has thrown her arms around his neck and they are embracing. A strange feeling wells up in my chest at the sight of them, and I feel like I am intruding on a private moment. She starts sobbing into his chest, and I feel a twinge of jealousy.

No one has ever held me like that.

I decide that I would rather wait outside than watch the spectacle before me, but a hand on my shoulder stops me before I am able to twist the knob of the door.

"Rose," I hear Vasilisa whisper. "I…I never thanked you…for…"

"Don't," I say cutting her off, but I don't turn to face her. "You don't need to thank me."

"I do."

I turn my head to one side and peer over my shoulder at her. Her expression seems genuine enough.

"I was just doing my job," I tell her firmly.

"I didn't realize rescuing civilians fell under your job description."

This time, I do turn to face her. "I know you think I'm some kind of a monster, and maybe I am in some ways," I say bitterly, thinking of my past. "But that doesn't mean I was going to sit by and let that man attack you."

She doesn't say anything, and I can tell by the look on her face that she is conflicted. She wants to hate me, but something has changed.

"You should get some sleep," I tell her abruptly. 'You can stay here for now."

"What about work?"

"You don't work there any more."

She gives me one last fleeting look and then pads off in the direction of the bed. Past her, I can see Dimitri standing on the far side of the room, studying me.

I look away from him, shoving my hands back into my pocket, wincing as I do. My hands are throbbing, and I realize I can't put off treatment for much longer. There is a first aid kit in the bathroom that should have most of what I need and so I make my way toward it.

I pass Vasilisa, who is now curled up in my bed, her chest rising and falling with a slow, steady rhythm. I shut the door of the bathroom behind me and begin scouring the cabinets until I find the kit. I fumble with the latch, my battered hands making it difficult to accomplish much of anything. The kit falls to the ground, bursting open as it does, and I let out a curse. I fall to my knees, trying to gather up the scattered medical supplies.

The door opens, and I look up to see Dimitri standing before me. I hear the door click as he shuts it.

"Here," he says, stooping to his knees to join me. "Let me help you."

"I don't need help," I mutter.

"Yes," he says, gently taking one of my hands in his own. "You do."

I freeze at his gesture, and I notice that the dull ache in my hands had practically disappeared the moment he touched me. I lift my head, staring at him disbelief.

"You're hurt," he tells me as he stands, pulling me to my feet as he does. "Sit down." He gestures to the closed toilet seat.

I do as he says, and watch as he runs a washcloth under the sink, muttering something in Russian as he does.

"What was that?" I ask curiously.

"You have running water," he says bluntly.

"Ah, that," I say, feeling a little guilty.

He doesn't respond, instead he kneels in front of me with the washcloth. He begins cleaning the dried blood from my knuckles. His hands are calloused and hard from years of manual labor, but they are still careful and gentle as they move over mine.

"Is this how you took care of Cal?" he finally asks, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?" I hadn't heard the words as he'd spoken them; I was too busy staring at his lips.

"Your hands, they seem to have taken a beating."

"You should see the other guy," I tell him, trying to make a joke, but my voice lacks any amusement.

"You didn't have to do it," he says, rubbing a salve over my cracked hands.

"What is it with you people? Do you really think that just because I'm an investigator, I would have let Cal hurt her?" I don't bother hiding the annoyance and the hurt and the anger that has been welling up within me.

"That's not what I mean. You didn't have to hurt him."

"Yes I did," I snap. "He deserved it."

"Perhaps, but you put yourself at risk when you attacked him."

I let out a bitter laugh, "Cal is hardly a threat to me."

He began rifling through the kit until he found what he was looking for.

He started bandaging up my hand, and then stopped to speak. "You were risking more than your safety when you intervened, and you did it to save a girl who hates you."

I try not to recoil at his bluntness, "Why does she hate me? I mean, I can understand her not having any love for a soldier, but she seems to really hate me."

He resumes his work on my hands, "I'm not sure I should be the one to tell you that."

I let out a small gasp of pain as he takes my left index finger in his hands, "I think that one is broken."

To my surprise, he chuckles softly, "It didn't cross your mind to take care of this before you came to find me?"

I shrug awkwardly, "I didn't want to leave her alone for too long, she seems like a flight risk."

"Good point," he says, standing up. "This is beyond my skill."

My hands feel colder now that they aren't cradled in his. I look down to admire his handiwork.

"Thank you," I whisper.

Dimitri looks down at me, and he smiles.

His face transforms, he is everything warm and good and beautiful in this world.

That's all it takes, one smile…and I know I'm a goner.

**I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I do writing it. Please please please let me know what you think so far!**


	9. Chapter 9

**_Vasilisa – _**

For the first time in what seems like months, I do not dream. My sleep is deep and blissful, and when I finally wake up, I feel like a different person. I am almost content, but that feeling is short-lived and it fades as I glance around the room and notice where I am. The walls are a stark white, vastly different from the cracked wood and peeled paint that adorns my own room. This room is modern looking, complete with a ceiling fan, and to my astonishment, it's on. I stare in wonder at the blades as they spin; the longer I watch, the faster they go. I have to tear my eyes away to avoid getting dizzy. Light from the late afternoon sun spills in through the window next to me, casting a warm glow on everything. My eyes eventually fall on a huddled form, curled up in an arm chair at the foot of my bed.

It's Rose.

Her hair falls in a tangled heap down her shoulders, and a few wayward strands cover her face. Each breath she takes blows the hair away, and then pulls it back in. This is the first time I've seen her look at peace. Despite the fact that I've known this girl for less than a day, I can tell that is not one to stay still for long. She is like raw energy, constantly in motion. The thought reminds me of one of Victor's lessons: _An object in motion will remain in motion until an external force acts upon it._ I guess the external force in the case of Rose Hathaway is exhaustion.

She stirs, and my whole body tenses. I contemplate whether or not I should lay back down and pretend to be asleep, but her slurred, sleepy speech tells me that it's already too late.

"Quit staring at me," she says, bringing up two bandaged hands to rub the remnants of sleep from her eyes. "You're making me nervous."

I let out a shaky laugh, "You get nervous?"

"Hmm," she muses. "Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure nerves were supposed to be removed from the pre-approved list of emotions I'm allowed to feel. I'll have to let the academy know that they screwed up when they created me in their laboratory."

I can't think of a response, so I stare at her, horror-stricken.

"Relax," she tells me as she unfolds her legs and rises from the chair. "It's a joke."

I try to laugh, but all that I can manage is a strange coughing sound. What am I doing here? In the Embassy, sleeping five feet away from an investigator? An investigator who likes to crack jokes?

_Cal._

_Cal attacked me._

_Rose saved me._

_She brought me here._

_I'm safe._

I try to reassure myself, but it's too late. I can feel my heart starting to race, my throat constricts, and the backs of my thighs burn where his hands had slid over me. I squeeze my eyes shut, but the image of Cal licking his lips is burned on the insides of my lids. I can feel a sob rising in my throat, and I'm fighting the urge to scream.

Except I can't scream, my lips are parted but I can't make a sound.

"Vasilisa," I hear some one calling me, but their voice is muffled, like we're underwater.

I feel two arms wrap around me, and I realize that Rose is sitting behind me, and she's pressing me to her chest. I move my hands up to grip her arms where they encircle me. At first I want to pry her off, but she only holds me tighter.

"100," she whispers into my ear. "99, 98, 97…"

She's counting…she's counting for me.

Her voice is strong and steady, and it guides me out of the storm of anxiety like a lighthouse guiding a ship home.

My heart rate normalizes, and my panic attack is reduced to shaking hands and shallow breathing.

"I'm fine," I tell her in a raspy voice.

She hesitates for a moment and then releases me. She moves to stand in front of me, her dark eyes studying me closely. I keep my own eyes trained on the floor, not wanting to meet her gaze.

"I didn't realize my jokes were that bad," she finally says. "I'm usually very funny, most people can hardly resist my charm."

She is pretending that what just transpired hadn't happened at all, for which I'm grateful.

I feel the corner of my lips pull up in a small smile, "Yes, you and your arsenal of weapons are irresistible."

"Is that sarcasm, Vasilisa?" she asks in mock astonishment.

I look up at her, but she's no longer standing in front of me. She has crossed to the far side of the room and is rifling through a duffle bag. She pulls out a pair of black pants and a maroon shirt.

I want to ask her about Dimitri, but before I can open my mouths to speak, she starts unzipping her jumpsuit. She peels it off, right in front of me. My cheeks flush what I'm sure must be a brilliant shade of crimson.

"Uh," I say turning away, shielding my eyes. "I can leave."

"Why?" she asks, sounding genuinely confused. "Oh, right…I forgot how modest and uptight you civilians are."

I whip my head around to glare at her just as she is pulling on her shirt. "Just because we don't get naked in front of strangers doesn't make us uptight," I snap.

She shrugs, "Could have fooled me. You should try it some time, getting naked with strangers can be incredibly rewarding."

I didn't think it was possible, but my blush deepens. "So it's true then?" I ask curiously. "That soldiers like to…" my voice tapers off, and I suddenly wish I had kept my mouth shut.

She gives me a smirk, "That we like to have sex?"

I am ringing my hands together so tightly that my skin feels like it's going to peel right off.

"You don't have to answer that," I finally stammer. "I don't know why I asked."

"Some of us," she says unflinchingly. "The academies wind us up so tightly during the day, all their rules, and their lessons, and their training. A lot of us see sex as a way to unwind, to get rid of just a little bit of that tension."

"Oh," is all I can say.

"I didn't think this was a topic you would want to discuss so soon after – "

I cut her off, "It's not." I tell her stiffly. "I need to get back to Victor, he's probably worried sick."

I swing my legs over the bed and scan the room, searching for my boots.

"I sent Dimitri ahead to let him know where you were."

I freeze. "He isn't going to tell Victor?"

"No," she says quickly. "No, Dimitri said he would just tell him that you were exhausted, and that I offered to let you stay here."

I scrunch my eyebrows together in a frown. "He's not going to believe that I just agreed to hole up with an investigator, he's going to know something happened."

She let out a sigh as she began bunching up her hair into a loose bun at the top of her head. "I don't know what to tell you. I'll lie to him if that's what you want, and I'm sure Dimitri will too."

I flinch at the sound of Dimitri's name on her lips, she spoke it like she had known him for years.

"I'll figure it out," I say as I pull my boots on one at a time after finding them kicked under the bed. "What about…what about Cal? Is he…?" I couldn't bare to finish my question.

"Dead?" she asks coolly. I can instantly sense that she has shifted her demeanor back into investigator mode. "No, I didn't kill him, not that he didn't deserve it. I made arrangements while you were sleeping."

"What kind of arrangements?" A part of me doesn't want to know the answer, but I ask anyways.

"He's been stealing from the RDC for years, I reported him."

I blanch, "What? How do you know that? Did you lie?"

"I had planned on it, but I went back through his own records, and it turns out he's been stealing from the RDC too, though not for the same noble reasons that you were."

"I knew it," I say, gasping. "There was no way anyone could get that fat off of normal rations!"

Rose laughs, and it's warm and infectious, soon I'm laughing with her.

"You should head back to your unit," she tells me once the laughter dies down.

For a moment, she looks like the soldier I had met yesterday. She radiates power and her eyes are so intense that I find myself wondering what the world looks like through this particular Rose-colored lens.

I nod and make my way toward the door, offering her a tight smile before leaving.

…

"Victor?" I call out, as I lock the door of my unit behind me. "Victor where are you?"

I shiver as I look around my unit. It feels different some how, even though it is exactly how I'd left it this morning. The morning itself feels like it happened a hundred years ago. The hair on my arms raises as I ponder how much has changed in the span of a few hours.

I had spent those hours in the company of an investigator, I had laughed with her, asked her questions about being a solider.

She had saved my life.

A part of me wants to believe that she's different, that she's not like the investigators who rushed into my childhood home and murdered my parents in cold blood. But when I close my eyes, I see an image of people clad in jumpsuits and red belts, swarming my house like a black wave, leaving nothing but death behind them.

_What if she saved me so that she could hold it over my head?_

_What if she told Cal to attack me?_

It seemed a pretty strange coincidence that she had been there at the exact moment I had need of someone with her skills. My stomach coils itself into knots at the very idea of it all.

_Then why had she let me stay with her?_

_Why did she count with me?_

My head begins to ache as I try to puzzle it all out, it's a dull, throbbing pain that pounds against my skull and the backs of my eyes. All of the energy and contentedness I had felt when I woke up earlier is gone, I feel drained. I slump to the floor, my back leaning against the bottom of the staircase as I cradle my head in my palms.

"Vasilisa?" A frail voice calls from the top of the stairs. "What are you doing down there?"

I clamber to my feet and look to where he stands. He is stooped over and pale, but his eyes remain bright and alert.

"Nothing," I say, as I start to climb the steps toward him. "I'm just tired, that's all."

He raises one hand to stop me, "Stay there, I'll come to you." He begins the descent, clinging to the bannister for support. "You're still tired even after nap time with your investigator?"

I fight the urge to scowl at him, "She's not my investigator, I just needed to talk to her, that's all."

"I see," he tells me in a haggard voice.

He reaches the bottom of the steps, and let's me take his arm and lead him into the kitchen.

"Did you girls have a nice talk?" he asks me, a knowing look on his face.

I avoid his gaze and make myself busy. I pull down cans of food and bowls and throw together a pathetic excuse for a meal.

"I just wanted to get a better feel for her," I say, bringing the bowls over to the kitchen table. "To see if we can trust her."

Victor raises an eyebrow at me, "And?"

"I don't know," I say, shoveling mystery meat into my mouth. "I still don't understand what she wants with you, or why you've agreed to help her."

"I haven't agreed to anything, not yet anyways. You're right to be weary of her though, she is not to be trusted."

"But," I say, my spoon scraping against the bottom of the bowl. "You said last night that you wanted to trust her."

"I did," he says, tone devoid of emotion. "And I lied."

I don't mean to, but I frown at his words.

"Come now, Vasilisa. Be smart about this. She needs something from us, and that means she is at our mercy."

"You want to use her for something?"

"There's the smart girl I've been waiting for!" He says clapping his hands together in delight.

Before I can protest or argue, or push him for more information, I hear the familiar sound of someone scratching on the walls of the pantry. Victor smiles, and I rise to remove the false back of the pantry to let Dimitri in.

But when I slide the door to the side, I see that he isn't alone.

**Ah thank you all for the reviews! They make me so happy! I have so much planned for this story, this is just the beginning. What do you guys think is going to happen next? Have you noticed any parallels between this story and the novels? Let me know in a review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**_Rose –_**

I'm not sure how it happened, but I am laughing. It's not a polite chuckle, it's not meant to be insulting, it's genuine and warm. It's a foreign feeling, but it's a good one. I let myself have this one small moment of normalcy, I let myself be a teenage girl – because that's what I am – technically. My laughter fades, and I find myself staring at Vasilisa. Her cheeks are flushed, her pale blonde hair sticks up in strange places, and her beige tunic dress is rumpled. Despite all of this, she is still beautiful. She looks like an angel, albeit one who just woke up from a nap.

Vasilisa is an enigma. One moment, I am throwing her up against the wall, the next I am crying for her outside of my door, and now I'm laughing with her. I have experienced more emotion in the past 24 hours than I have felt all year. It's unnerving, and the fact that I'm even willing to admit that I find something, or in this case someone, unnerving tells me that I'm letting myself get distracted. I hadn't been prepared for the paradox that is Vasilisa – on the outside she seems delicate and innocent, but on the inside she is intelligent and fierce, she's strong too, even if she doesn't know it yet.

I've always known that people laugh, that they cry, and that they get scared. Those are all basic human emotions, ones I knew I was capable of feeling – ones I had been prepared for. Nothing could have prepared me for Dimitri, or the way I felt when he looked at me. Someone should have told me that some boys have the power to make your heart beat so rapidly, you're worried you've gone into cardiac arrest, or that they can turn your kneecaps into jelly with a smile. That would have been useful information, and maybe I wouldn't feel like such an idiot right now. The closest I've ever come to discussing romantic feelings is when my roommate told me that one of our classmates had given her "butterflies."

I told her we weren't allowed to have pets.

She eventually explained to me that she was just using a metaphor, that it was a way to describe the feeling you get in your stomach when you like some one. I had dismissed her, but now I think she may have been onto something. Only, when Dimitri had held my hands, it had felt more like an angry mob of wasps, not butterflies.

I'm getting attached. I'm not here to make friends, and I'm certainly not here to fall in love with a civilian.

"You should head back to your unit," I tell Vasilisa, a little more sternly than I had meant to.

She rises to leave, but smiles at me before she closes the door behind her.

I wait ten minutes before I follow her out of the room, using the time to pull on my boots and to arm myself with a few easily concealed knives. Old habits die hard I guess. As I make my way across the compound, I decide to make a mental list of everything I still need to accomplish. I've already reported Cal to the compound's local authority, but they weren't too pleased. They've insisted that I recommend someone to replace him, and I wonder if Vasilisa would be up to the challenge. I also need to figure out what Victor wants from me in return for information on my parents. I had almost forgotten why I had come here in the first place.

I come to a crossroads, one path will lead me to the housing units – to Vasilisa and Victor. I know that's where I should go, but even as I tell myself this, my legs carry me off in the other direction – toward the gates. For the second day in a row, I find myself leaning against the stone walls of the compound. The guards no longer seem phased by my presence and are content to just ignore me, or maybe they just don't recognize me outside of my uniform. I look down at my wrist and see that it is bare, I curse myself for leaving my watch back at the embassy. _How am I supposed to know what time it is?_

A bell rings out just then, making me think that the universe must have a strange sense of humor. On cue, the gates begin to creak open and the field hands start to trickle in a few minutes later. My palms are sweaty with anticipation, I glance down at them in disgust and wipe them off on my pants. I'm being ridiculous, I know, but I still find myself scanning the crowd of men as they pass through the portcullis, my eyes darting from face to face, searching for him.

When I finally do spot Dimitri, I see that he isn't alone. There's a boy with him. He has messy, dark brown hair and a face that looks like it was painstakingly carved out of the finest marble. I wait until they've passed my hiding place in the shadows before following them. I can't make out what they're discussing, but whatever it is, the boy finds it terribly amusing. He turns around to glance at me, and to my utter astonishment, he smiles at me. The face that I would have initially described as angelic, now makes him seem like he is constantly up to no good.

"Speak of the devil," he practically shouts.

I let my face go blank, I have perfected this emotionless mask over time, and I know that when I wear it, my feelings become unreadable. Dimitri looks at the boy, who is still grinning at me.

"It's your investigator friend," he says to Dimitri. "My god, she's even more attractive up close."

Dimitri stops in his tracks, and then he too turns to look at me. I want to smile at him, but I know I can't. I stride toward them purposefully, suddenly wishing I had my uniform on. The belt is like a shield, I never have to worry about not being taken seriously.

"Dimitri," I say, using my investigator's tone.

His dark eyes betray nothing, he's not happy to see me, but he's not necessarily upset about it either. His face is as neutral as my own,

"Yes?" He asks me icily.

I narrow my eyes, "We need to continue our talk from earlier."

The boy answers for Dimitri, "A talk? That sounds kinky, perhaps I could tag along. Or maybe you and I could have a little talk of our own." He reaches out a hand, like maybe he intends to stroke my cheek.

He doesn't get very far. Faster than he probably thought possible, I strike out and take his wrist in one of my bandaged hands. With a quick twist and a little bit of maneuvering on my part, I am able to secure his arm behind his back. I hold it at an awkward angle, and with a little bit of pressure, I could dislocate his shoulder if I wanted to.

He gasps in pain. "This isn't quite what I had in mind," he tells me through gritted teeth. "Dimitri, don't just stand there, help me!"

I peer over at him from behind the boy. Dimitri is displaying none of the animosity that he did when it was Vasilisa who had been in danger. If I didn't know any better, I would say he was slightly amused.

"Adrian, I don't think anything can help you at this point," he tells the boy dryly. "You should know better than to hit on a soldier."

"Adrian is it?" I ask the boy who has gone quite still. "That's a pretty name."

He tries to shrug. "A pretty name for a pretty face."

I ignore him and pull up slightly on his arm. "Don't do that again."

He winces and then brings up his free arm up in a mock salute, "Yes mam!"

I let him go, pushing him forward slightly as I do. "Now go home before I decide to arrest you."

He pales slightly, some of his confidence slipping away at my threat. "I'll see you later," he says to Dimitri before walking away. We watch him go, rubbing his shoulder as he does.

"Was that really necessary?" Dimitri asks me, the corners of his mouth twitching as he does.

"No, but it was fun."

He shakes his head at me, a few strands of hair falling forward to frame his face as he does. "What is it that you need to talk to me about? Is Lissa okay?"

My heart sinks a little, his first words to me have either been hostile, or about her. "She's fine, I sent her home. I'm headed there now actually, I thought you would probably want to be there when I talked to Victor."

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, "That's…considerate of you."

"Not really," I say as I start walking toward the housing units. "Even if I didn't invite you to come along, Vasilisa would have. Or you would have found out on your own and probably attacked me, and I'm not in the mood to knock you on your ass again. Especially after you patched me up this morning."

I shouldn't have been surprised when my words didn't illicit any kind of reaction from him, he just continues to walks next to me in silence.

"Can I ask you something?" He finally says.

My heart flutters, and he hasn't even asked me his question. "It depends."

"On?"

"On the question."

I glance over at him from the corner of my eye, and I see that he is openly studying me.

"Who are they? Ibrahim and Janine?"

I try not to flinch, but his words catch me off guard. I knew he and Vasilisa had overheard most of my conversation with Victor, but none of them had actually thought to ask me who the people I was risking my career and my life for were.

"Isn't it obvious?" I ask, a lump rising in my throat as I do.

"What do you mean?"

I force the lump down, swallowing hard. "They're my parents."

Dimitri doesn't say anything for a long time, but when he does, he manages to catch me off guard again. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I don't know where my parents are either," he says, his voice sounding far away.

"Isn't it strange that we apologize for another person's grief, when what we really mean is that we understand it?"

"I never thought about it like that."

"We're not supposed to think," I tell him bleakly.

We've reached the housing units when he stops to look at me, "I need to change."

"That's fine, I'll meet you in Victor's unit," I say turning away from him.

A hand on my shoulder stops me. "No, The neighbors are watching." He gestures over his shoulder and I see that he's right. "It will look suspicious if you're seen with Vasilisa or Victor too often."

I frown at his logic, I'm an investigator and that basically means I'm allowed to do whatever I want, regardless of how suspicious it might seem to civilians. Just my presence is suspicious, but I decide not to remind him. I might not fully understand my feelings for Dimitri, but I do understand changing, shirtless men.

"Smart," I tell him, following him into his unit.

I am soon disappointed when he tells me to wait in the entryway while he goes upstairs to change. He comes down the stairs a few moments later wearing a cleaner version of the same outfit he had been wearing earlier: dark pants and a white collared shirt, complete with suspenders and heavy working boots.

"This way," he tells me, pulling me out of my thoughts of what he might look like beneath the threads of his clothing.

I follow him down the hallway that leads past the stairs, it's identical to the one in Vasilisa's unit.

He reaches a hand out toward me, and I stare at it, a little confused. "What?"

"Uh," he says, pulling back his hand to run it through his hair. "I was going to help you down the hallway, it can be treacherous."

"Oh, sorry...I'm just not used to people wanting to help me," I regret my words even as I say them. They make me sound weak and pathetic, like I want his sympathy, when all I really want is his trust.

He just nods and gestures for me to head down the passageway. I curse myself silently as I do. Eventually I come to a dead end, and then he is standing behind me. My pack is pressed against his chest and I find that I don't remember how to breathe, and I'm about ten seconds away from forgetting how to stand. I am aware of every inch of him, and even though there are two layers of clothing separating our skin, mine burns. He reaches past me and scratches lightly on the wall in front of us.

A few moments later, the wall slides open to reveal Vasilisa. Her green eyes widen in surprise as she takes in the two of us standing together in the narrow hallway. She doesn't say anything, instead she steps to one side, letting us pass by her. The passageway emerges into the kitchen, and it doesn't take me long to notice Victor. He is bent over a bowl of half-eaten food, but he raises his head at the sound of our footsteps.

"I was wondering when I would be seeing you again," he says, his voice sounding more tired than it had the night before. "Please, sit, we have much to discuss."

I glance over at Dimitri and Vasilisa who are convening together quietly in the far corner of the room. I sit down at the rickety table across from Victor.

"So," he starts. "I've given a great deal of thought as to what you could do for me."

I sit up straighter, throwing my shoulders back and raising my chin toward him. "That's all well and good, but before I do anything for you, I need to know that you'll give me what I want afterward."

He smiles, but there is no warmth, it's almost cruel. "I'm afraid the only thing I have to offer you is my word."

I cross my arms, "Tell me about them, tell me one thing, so I know that you're telling the truth."

"Ah," he says, bringing his hands together to rest under his chin. "You want to know about Ibrahim and Janine, am I correct?"

I nod stiffly.

"They're your parents, aren't they?"

I don't move, but he takes my silence as an affirmation.

"I knew Janine had been pregnant before the Pulse, but I never met the child. Yes, I knew her. She was an engineer, a brilliant one."

"I already knew that. Tell me something I don't know," my voice comes out in a low growl.

"Now, now," he chides. "I promise you that I know things that you don't."

"Like?"

"Like where you can find them."

My blood runs cold. "That's not possible."

"Oh, but it is," he tells, in a sweet, thick voice.

"No," I say gathering my composure and summoning the most neutral voice that I can. "They're dead."

"Is that what they told you? It seems that you have been lied to my dear girl."

"You're the one whose lying," I hiss.

"Is that what you think?" He asks, his eyes twinkling with secrets. "I don't think it is, I think you want to believe me. You wouldn't have come this far just to be told, again, that your parents are dead. No, a part of you hoped that they were alive, you needed something to cling to after all."

I want to lunge across the table and seize Victor by the throat, but a quick glance in Dimitri's direction tells me that he and Vasilisa probably wouldn't let me get very far. They are no longer standing on the far side of the kitchen, and from the looks on their faces I can tell that they've been hanging on our every word.

"Prove it," I finally say, my voice barely a whisper.

"I can't," he tells me. "But you can prove it to yourself."

"How?"

"The task I have in mind for you, it involves collecting some information. If you're successful in your endeavors, you will find all the proof that you need."

I slam my fist on the table, "Enough with the vague language, what do you want?"

"You came here under the pretenses of arresting me, because I am responsible for holding small gatherings where I teach subjects that are forbidden under NAAMA law," he says matter of factly. "I can't be the only one."

I scoff, "Obviously, I would be out of a job if that were true."

He ignores my tone. "There are places outside of the compounds, filled with people like me, filled with rebels."

"Those are rumors," I tell him, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

"Are they? Well, it doesn't really matter what you think. I'm willing to bet the information that would prove their existence one way or another, is stored in the same place as the information that would lead you to your parents."

"Fine," I say, drumming my fingers on the table. "But none of that information would be stored in this compound, or even at the academy. I would have to break into a government holding facility."

"Exactly."

I rise from the table, not wanting to hear any more of this old man's crazy schemes. "This is ridiculous, unless you're going to let me arrest you, I have no reason to step foot inside one of those facilities."

Victor watches me as I walk away. "I'm sure you'll figure something out."

I don't bother saying goodbye as I slam the door behind me. I should have known better than to let the success of my mission hinge on some old man. I should have known better than to let myself see him and the people in his life as anything other than tools.

"Rose! Wait!"

I don't stop walking, I don't want Dimitri to see the hot angry tears that have pooled in my eyes. It doesn't take long for him to catch up to me though.

I spin around before he has a chance to say anything, "What do you want?" I ask, my voice trembling despite my resolve.

He says something, but he is breathless and I can't understand him.

"Spit it out," I demand.

He takes a deep breath and then fixes me with a look I can't read. "Arrest me."

**I know some of you are wondering whether or not I'm going to post a chapter from Dimitri's POV, the answer is probably not. I want to tell his story through the eyes of Rose and Lissa, if I were to present his thoughts, it would give too much away. Part of Dimitri's allure for me in the original series was that I never knew what he was thinking unless he said it, he was a mystery. **

**I've also received a number of reviews about not liking Lissa. I'm not gonna lie, her character really bugged me in the series. I thought she was selfish and whiny, but I think that had a lot to do with her upbringing, I mean she was a princess. I also think a lot of us tend to overlook the fact that she was willing to bust the man who tortured her out of prison just so she could help out her friend. **

**In this story, I've stripped her of her title and her lineage, I've made her a commoner. The character I'm trying to write is still the one from the VA novels, but without the magic and the politics. I hope you guys can see that and will give the story a chance.**


	11. Chapter 11

**_Vasilisa – _**

"No."

Dimitri doesn't meet my gaze when he speaks, "What do you mean no?"

"I mean no!" I say, moving so that I am standing in front of him. "You can't do this, it's suicide!"

Despite the fact that I am standing less than a foot away from Dimitri, he is still able to avoid making direct eye contact with me, "It's the only way," he says, staring directly over my head and out the window of my bedroom.

"The only way to do what? To get information on the Havens? You heard Rose! They're a myth!"

The Havens.

Victor doesn't like to call them that. For him, the Havens are just a place where people are free to learn about whatever they want. He thinks the name makes them seem trivial. But the Havens mean different things to different people. They are something every kid in the compounds grows up hearing about. We don't get bed time stories about princesses and dragons, although the tales about the Havens seem just as far-fetched. Depending on who you ask, they could be a place where everyone has access to electricity and running water, a place where children are taught how things work, or even a place left virtually untouched by the Pulse – all of those notions seem like just as much of a fairytale as pumpkins turning into carriages to me.

"Look at me!" I demand, trying to make myself taller. "They're not real! Do you really think that Executor Ozera would let a place like that exist? And even if it did exist, you getting yourself arrested and shipped off to a government holding facility won't accomplish anything, it will only get you killed!"

"We can't keep living like this," he says, gesturing around my bedroom. "We shouldn't have to learn by candlelight, we shouldn't have to hide what we know," his voice is increasing with volume as he speaks. "I don't want to work in a field for the rest of my life, and you shouldn't have to live in constant fear of darkness!" Now he is looking at me, his dark eyes glinting with rage.

I back away from him slowly, staring at him with wide eyes. Dimitri is always so composed, and seeing his chest rising and falling out of anger is startling.

"None of that is worth risking your life!" I tell him in a shaky voice. "I don't want you to do this for me!"

"It's not about just you,' he says in a low growl. "Think of what the Havens could mean for us, for all of us – you, me, Victor, Adrian and his parents. We could start over; we could live our lives the way we wanted to, we wouldn't have to be so scared all of the time."

I continue backing up until I can go no further. Once I've reached the door, I press my back against it and sink to the floor. "Why does it have to be you?" I ask in a small voice. "Why can't Rose just go by herself?"

"She has no reason to, government holding facilities are meant to do just that – hold prisoners." He is talking to me like he would a child, and maybe I'm acting like one, but I don't care. "If she arrests me, she can enter the facility under the pretenses of transporting a dangerous criminal."

"So what?" I ask bitterly. "Is she just gonna slap a pair of cuffs on you and the two of you will ride down South together, where she will break into a secured room, find some magical folder that will tell us that not only do the Havens exist, but where we can find them?"

"Lissa…" he starts.

"I haven't finished," I snap. "The story gets better, next Rose will find out that her parents are alive, and then the two of you will stroll out of a heavily secured government facility, hand in hand. You'll come back and we will all ride off into the sunset together. Is that your brilliant plan?"

He walks over to the window, keeping his eyes fixed on the crescent moon that hangs against the dark backdrop of the night. "It's more complicated than that," he says quietly.

"Then what is the plan? You and Rose were gone for nearly three hours."

"The less you know," he says, "the better."

I clamber to my feet, clenching my fists at my sides, "If you're not going to listen to me, and you're not going to tell me what you and Rose are planning, then why even bother coming back here? Why are you even here?" I want my tone to be stern and accusatory, but I sound like a little girl.

He turns to look at me, his face perfectly blank, "I wanted to say goodbye."

My vision blurs, and it takes me a moment to realize that it's because I'm crying. "Why?" I say pleadingly, "Why are you doing this?"

"I already told you why."

"No, why are you saying goodbye?" I ask, but I'm scared I already know the answer. "Is it because you're not coming back?" My words are coming out in between choked sobs.

"I don't know," he says. "It might not be an option."

The thought of Dimitri not coming back is almost too much for me to bear, and so I change the subject, "When?"

"When what?"

"When is she going to…" I swallow hard, "arrest you?"

"Tomorrow," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Rose says that it has to be public."

"What can she even arrest you for?" I ask, hoping I've found a flaw in their plan.

"Rose was sent here to investigate Victor because he was sponsoring our gatherings," he says mechanically. "She's going to claim that Victor had nothing to do with it – "

"You're taking the blame," I say cutting him off. I don't need him to finish.

He nods, "Arresting me gives Rose a reason to travel to the holding facility, and it shifts any suspicion away from Victor."

"Does Victor know?"

Dimitri only nods.

"Of course he does," I say under my breath.

Victor is a brilliant man, and I think much of his brilliance can be attributed to his ability to see any situation objectively. He wants what's best for people, he seeks and he believes in the greater good, but he also believes in sacrifice.

"What was that?" asks Dimitri.

"Nothing," I tell him.

Neither of us says anything for a long time.

"I guess this is goodbye," I finally say.

"I guess," he says, walking toward the door. "Lissa…try to think of this as a good thing. If Rose's plan works, we could leave this place."

"And if it doesn't?" I say, stepping aside so that he can leave.

"Rose will come back," he says firmly. "With or without me."

"I thought you couldn't tell me about the plan?" I say bitterly.

He ignores my snark, "I made her promise to come back. If the Havens exist, she'll find a way to get you there."

I bite my lip, "Do you trust her?"

"I have to," he says, reaching for the knob. He pauses before twisting it. "I'll see you soon."

I watch him leave without another word. I'm surprised that I don't immediately resume my crying when the door clicks shut. Instead, I peel off my dress and grab my lantern off the dresser and put it on the night stand next to my useless lamp. I climb into bed, and I try to make myself as small as possible beneath my blankets. I wait for the tears, I wait for the shaking and shallow breathing, but nothing happens. I don't feel anything, I am completely numb.

I hadn't said good bye, not really. Dimitri is the closest thing I have ever had to a brother, and I had let him walk out of here without saying goodbye. At the time, I had been so angry and I had taken it out on him. I was mostly angry with myself, for being so helpless and for feeling so abandoned. Asking him to stay was selfish. I had told him that he couldn't go because it was dangerous, but really, I just didn't want to be alone.

I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a deep, shuttering breath. I realize then, that I can't afford to be selfish or helpless any more. I won't survive acting the way that I have, relying on others to save me and to take care of me, people like Victor, Dimitri, and even Rose. I make a promise to myself, to be more understanding, to be selfless, and to be stronger.

…

I wake up to the sound of a sharp knock at my door. Before I can tell the person to come in, the door swings open.

"Get up," says Rose, waltzing into my room uninvited.

She is wearing her uniform, the crimson belt around her waist causes me to panic for a brief moment.

"Excuse me," I say bunching my blankets up over my bare shoulders. "Do you mind?"

"No," she says walking over to my closet. "Why are you still in bed?"

"It's where I sleep," I tell her, deadpan.

She starts rifling through my closet, "Well you're going to be late for work."

"Work?" My heart starts racing at the thought of returning to the RDC. "I thought you said I didn't work there any more?"

She tosses a dark green dress onto the bed, "I did say that, but now that Cal has been…dealt with, some one will need to take over his position."

I blink back my surprise, "Me? I can't do that."

"You can," she says bending down to grab my boots, "and you will."

"Rose…"

She cuts off my protests before I can even formulate them. "I know you hate it there, but I need you to do this…we all need you to," she adds for emphasis.

"That doesn't make any sense," I stammer. "Why do you need me to do anything?"

She drops the shoes on the floor directly in front of me, "It might not make sense right now, but it will." She stares at me and wrinkles her nose before speaking again. "You should probably take a shower."

She turns to leave, but I call out to her before she can, "That's it?"

She peers over her shoulder at me, her dark ponytail swaying as she does, "What's it?"

"You're leaving today, aren't you? With Dimitri?"

She hesitates, "Yes," is all she says.

"Will you tell him something for me?"

Something resembling regret flashes in her eyes before she responds, "What is it?"

"Tell him goodbye, and that…that I'm sorry."

She won't look at me, "Anything else?" she asks impatiently.

"Just…keep him safe, okay?"

Her back is still to me, and she hangs her head, "I'll do my best."

"Promise me!" I demand. "Please…" my voice falters.

"I wish I could." She raises her head and walks out before I can say anything else.

…

I decide to follow Rose's advice, and take a shower, albeit a very short one. The water cuts off halfway through it and I am forced to wipe the suds off of me with a damp towel. I put on the dress she had thrown at me and rush out of my unit, not bothering with breakfast. I pull my wet hair into a bun as I walk across the compound toward the RDC. I find myself wondering when Rose will arrest Dimitri.

_Maybe she already has._

I shake my head, remembering that Dimitri told me that it would need to happen in public.

There is a line of people waiting outside of the RDC when I get there. Inside, the building is empty. I pull out my ledger from behind the counter and unlock the bars. The first person steps up to the counter.

"Name?" I ask, keeping my eyes focused on the lines of my paper.

"Lissa," says the girl standing in front of me. "It's me."

I look up to see Jill standing on the other side of the counter, "Right, sorry. What do you need?"

"Just some aspirin, two bottles should do it."

"Okay," I say distractedly.

I write down her name and her order in my ledger, and then fill out a separate sheet of paper with the same exact information.

I hand her the second sheet, "Take this to the warehouse, they'll get you what you need."

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"Fine," I mumble. "Next?"

I repeat that same process over and over again for the next three hours, not bothering to pay attention to the people or their requests. I give everyone whatever they ask for, I don't check them against the logs to see how much they've requested in the past, I don't do anything beyond scrawling out the names of people and supplies and sending them to the warehouses where the resources are actually stored.

A commotion at the back of the line breaks up the monotony. I crane my neck over the counter to try and get a better look. Soon, I can see Adrian shouldering his way past angry civilians. My heart clenches.

"Lissa," he says breathlessly, once he reaches the front of the line. "Come with me."

I don't need any other explanation, the look of fear on Adrian's usually carefree face tells me everything I need to know.

I reach forward and slam the bars shut, I lock up despite the angry protests of everyone still in line. I meet Adrian outside and he grabs me by the wrist, pulling me toward the main square of the compound. There is already a crowd gathered there, but I can't see past them to whatever has drawn their attention.

"The investigator," Adrian yells over his shoulder. "She's got Dimitri!"

We reach the crowd and Adrian immediately begins cutting through it. His nails dig into my arm as he pulls me after him, but I hardly feel them.

"She showed up while we were working, and she arrested him," he says, shoving past an elderly woman.

"Sorry," I say, moving past her.

"She said he was responsible for spreading illegal content throughout the compound."

Before I can respond, Adrian and I bust through the front line of people, and I see what has drawn the crowd.

Dimitri is surrounded by a ring of guards, his hands held behind his back with metal cuffs. He keeps his head held high, and his expression devoid of fear or any other emotion. My eyes eventually find Rose. She is standing in front of Dimitri, brandishing a short, lethal looking nightstick. Her eyes are narrowed and she radiates strength and deadliness. She is trying to lead Dimitri and his captors past the crowd and toward the building that serves as a temporary jailhouse in our compound.

The people don't part for her they way they had during the Anniversary speech, they're angry. Some are shouting, some one even tries to throw a rock, but it skids to a stop at Rose's feet. Her eyes flick to where it lands, and her free hand moves toward one of the pockets of her jumpsuit. If the mob scares her, I can't tell, if anything she looks annoyed.

"Solider scum!" some one shouts, accompanied by another flying stone.

Rose takes a small step to the right, and it flies past her. Her lips curl up in a wicked grin, and the hand that had been hovering over her pocket reaches into it. She withdraws a black, metal object that I've never seen before, it's bent at a ninety degree angle. She raises it with one hand, and crosses the nightstick under her wrist with the other.

A few of the older people in the crowd gasp, and some one yells "gun."

Gun.

Rose has a gun.

She moves her arms in a wide sweeping motion, the crowd ducking when the barrel of the gun passes over them. She shouts something at the mob, but I'm not listening. My eyes are fixed on the firearm. The people blocking her path scurry out of the way, and Dimitri's guard moves forward. They leave the clearing, and the crowd trails after them, following at a safe distance. I watch as Rose leads Dimitri into a windowless building. Rose throws her head over her shoulder at the last moment, her eyes somehow finding me. A million different thoughts seem to pass between us in that one moment.

"Come back," I mouth.

She nods, and the door slams shut behind her.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Rose –_**

"Wake up," I whisper.

Through the bars of his cell, I can see Dimitri stirring on a cot.

"Dimitri," I say, gripping the bars and pressing my face in between them. "It's time to go."

His eyelids flutter open, and a few moments later he sits up bolt right, the rickety cot beneath him groaning under his weight. He blinks a few times, staring at the putrid stone walls of his cell and the flickering bulb that hangs from the rafters. His eyes eventually find mine. They are alert, despite the heavy bags that hang beneath then. Exhaustion is written all over his face. I want to smile at him, to offer him some small gesture of reassurance, but the sound of footsteps coming toward me makes me think better of it.

I cast Dimitri one last glance before pulling myself away from the bars to peer down the corridor in the direction of the footsteps. The hallways are poorly lit, a single bulb hangs every five feet or so, but only casts enough light to illuminate a small circle of space beneath. The approaching figure passes through one pool of light, then darkness, then another pool of light. I eventually recognize Mikhail Tanner, the head of the compound guard. He is a tall man, with a good-natured face, but right now his features are grim.

He hadn't been happy when I had come to him late last night with a warrant for Dimitri's arrest. He had insisted that Dimitri was a model civilian. Mikhail could hardly believe that he was the one behind the secret gatherings, especially since Victor was the one originally under suspicion. After explaining that Victor couldn't possibly be the one responsible for spreading illegal content because of how ill he was, Mikhail had been more accepting of my Dimitri theory. After we raided Dimitri's unit and found his journal, Mikhail and been forced to accept his involvement and had given me full command of the compound guard.

Finding the journal hadn't been an accident. Dimitri had told me last night that he brought it to every gathering, and that it was full of illegal content. Something like that would be more than enough to implicate him. Dimitri had warned me that it was imperative that I be the one to find it, that in between diagrams of the solar system and hand drawn periodic tables, were his own personal thoughts. When I'd asked why that mattered, he told me that my name came up in the later entries. I promised him that I wouldn't read any of it, even though he hadn't asked me to.

I can feel the journal in my pocket right now, pressing against my thigh, burning with Dimitri's unspoken thoughts and feelings. My hand hovers over it without me even thinking about what I'm doing.

"Tanner," I say, drawing my hands behind my back. "Report?"

He stops a few feet away from where I stand, his face half hidden in shadows. "The transport just arrived. It has been determined that myself and another guard will be riding to the station with you and Dim – the prisoner."

"Have we heard anything back from my people?"

"No mam, we sent out the telegram you requested a few hours ago, but the Risk Prevention Department has yet to respond."

That isn't surprising, the boys in the correspondence sector of the RPD are lazy. They are probably asleep on the job, something I had been counting on when I had ordered the telegram to be sent. I had sent word of my decision to arrest a civilian who wasn't Victor, and I wasn't sure how my superiors would respond to that. My plan is to be gone before they order me to do other wise.

I nod at Mikhail, "Fine, have any and all messages forwarded to the Lone Star Holding Facility."

Mikhail's eyes widen. "You're taking him to Texas?"

"There is no Texas," I say mechanically. "Not any more."

"Right, of course," he stammers.

"Get him ready to go," I say, gesturing in Dimitri's direction. "We leave in five."

After a stiff nod from Mikhail, he reaches for the ring of keys that dangles from his belt. I force myself to stare straight ahead as I walk away from Dimitri. I hear the grinding sound of metal sliding against metal as the door to his cell is opened, the clanking of keys, and the clicking sound of his iron restraints.

I hate this.

I hate what he asked me to do. At first, I thought he had been joking when he told me to arrest him, that he was mocking me. He hadn't been though, and he told me that it was the only way that everyone could get what they wanted. I told him that was a ridiculous sentiment, and then explained how unlikely it was that I'd be able to get him out of the facility once we were there.

"Is that what you want?" I asked him. "To rot away in a cell, or to meet a NAAMA firing squad? Because that's what happens to people who do what I'd be arresting you for."

"Of course that's not what I want," he had said. "I don't want to die, but if I had to choose how it happened, I would choose dying to help the people that I love."

I find myself wondering what it would be like to love someone so deeply, that I would be willing to sacrifice my own life. I wake up everyday, prepared to die. It is something I had come to terms with a long time ago – soldiers die everyday. But my acceptance of my own mortality doesn't stem from the idea that someone else's life or happiness means _more_ to me than my own, I feel this way because my own life means _nothing_ to me at all.

…

Dimitri is led out of the jailhouse with his hands bound in front of him, still dressed in the work clothes he had been wearing when I had arrested him. Mikhail helps him to climb into the backseat of a black military jeep that had arrived just ten minutes ago. Mikhail sits on one side of him, and another guard whose name I don't know sits on the other side. The driver of the vehicle is a woman. She wears the same jumpsuit as me, but her belt is white. A white belt is standard apparel for soldiers who never specialized. These soldiers received the same basic training that I did, but hadn't gone on to work for the RPD or any other department after they had graduated. They usually get stuck with desk jobs, or like this soldier – transporting prisoners and military personnel.

"Hathaway," she says with a stiff nod. "I'm Serena."

I don't bother responding, I know she'll continue speaking without me prompting her.

"It's a three hour drive to the nearest railroad station."

I glance down at my watch, the glowing numbers read 2:07 AM.

"Then we should get going," I tell her, walking toward the passenger side door before I've even finished speaking.

The first hour of our journey passes in complete silence. I want to sleep, but automobiles make me nervous and so I find myself clutching Dimitri's journal through the fabric of my jumpsuit, my eyes fixed on the road ahead of us.

"Ever been in a vehicle before?" asks Mikhail, finally breaking the silence.

No one responds, and I think for a moment that maybe he had been talking to me. I peer over my shoulder and see Dimitri shaking his head in response to Mikhail's question.

Mikhail, probably sensing Dimitri's discomfort keeps going, "I guess there's a first time for everything."

"I have a feeling this is not the first new thing I will be experiencing over the next few days," says Dimitri coolly, his eyes locked on mine.

My heart clenches and I turn my head back to face the windshield.

"Is there anyone back home you want me to get a message to?" asks Mikhail. "I know you don't have any family, but…"

"No," says Dimitri. "I don't have anyone."

Dimitri and I had decided that it would be best to downplay his relationship with both Victor and Vasilisa, on the off chance that someone other than myself was sent to investigate the matter further.

Mikhail lets out a sigh, "I know the feeling."

"Aren't you married?" asks Dimitri, seeming genuinely interested.

Mikhail hesitates for a moment before speaking, "Engaged," he says, though he doesn't sound very excited about it. "Well I was…you remember Sonya?"

Dimitri ponders the question, "She's the teacher with the red hair, right?"

"That's the one," says Mikhail wistfully. "She uh…_disappeared_ a few months back."

"Disappeared?" The word rolls off Dimitri's tongue, dripping with disdain.

People don't just disappear here in NAAMA. They're taken, usually by investigators. I want to ask Mikhail what happened, but if she really was taken, I'm probably the last person he wants to do discuss it with. The conversation dies down after that, and we all stare out the windows of the jeep in silence.

…

Two hours later, I find myself sitting across from Dimitri in an empty train car, hurdling toward the former state of Texas. Serena had taken Mikhail and the other guard back to the compound on my orders. Despite the fact that Mikhail really did think Dimitri had broken the law, he seemed weary of leaving Dimitri alone in the company of an investigator. He knew better than to question my authority though, and he had let me lead Dimitri away from the jeep and toward the platform without any protesting. Dimitri is only one of a few prisoners being transported down south, and so we are assigned our own car, though we are due to pick up more when we stop to refuel

Dimitri's metal restraints clink against the armrests of his seat as he tries to get comfortable.

"Is this really necessary?" he asks, holding both his wrists up as far as the cuffs will let him.

I am sitting sideways, taking up the entire row of seats with my outstretched legs. My back is leaning against the windows, my lids heavy with equal parts exhaustion and anxiety.

I open one eye to peek at him, "You're a dangerous criminal now, Comrade, those cuffs are for my safety," I tell him dryly.

"Comrade?" he asks, sounding only slightly amused. "Really?"

I open the other eye, "Yeah, you're Russian, aren't you?"

"Yes, but do you even know where that word comes from?"

"Sure," I say shrugging my shoulders. "I learned all about it in World History."

"They taught history from before the Event at the academy?" he asks, a little bewildered.

I had never given much thought to what a civilians education entailed, but apparently the curriculum was pretty sparse.

I nod my head, "It wasn't very informative though, kind of like a 'just so you know,' class."

"Do you wish they had taught you more?" his face is relaxed and thoughtful, which is strange considering the fact that he is tethered to his seat by handcuffs.

I bite my lip, thinking about his question. "No," I finally say. "I hated the basic subjects."

He lets out a soft chuckle, "What does Rose Hathaway like to learn about then?"

"Hmmm," I say, tilting my head to the side. "I was top of my class in hand-to-hand, I'm also pretty good with throwing knives…"

"But did you like learning about those things?"

I make a face, "I just told you –"

"No," he says softly. "You told me what you were good at it. Just because you're good at something doesn't mean you enjoy doing it. For example, I happen to excel at shucking corn, but if given the chance, I would probably burn that field to the ground."

I can't help but laugh, "Okay…so what are you really trying to ask me?"

"What do you like to do for fun?"

I sit in stunned silence for what seems like a century.

"I don't know," I finally say, trying not to sound as embarrassed as I am. "I've never really thought about it."

"Come on," he teases. "There has to be something."

I yawn, "Well, since you asked, I'm a big fan of spending the day in bed."

He makes a small coughing noise, and my cheeks flush red once I've realized the implications of my words.

"Sleep," I blurt out. "I meant sleeping…I like to sleep." I sound like an idiot.

He raises an eyebrow at me, "Is that all?"

My heart is beating a mile a minute, and I wonder how it's possible that he can't hear the tiny jackhammer in my chest. "I don't know," I say evasively. "Soldiers don't have a lot of time for activities that aren't learning innovative new ways to maim and kill."

"What about friends?" he asks, shifting the subject away from killing.

"What about them?" I ask, not sure what he's getting at.

"Do you have any?"

"I have friends," I snap.

He holds up his hands in a defensive manner, the metal of his cuffs rubbing against his wrists as he does, "I wasn't trying to insult you."

"Coulda fooled me," I huff, crossing my arms over my chest protectively.

"I'm just trying to figure you out," he says in an even tone.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He leans forward to look at me. "I've never met anyone like you. On the outside you're brave, and strong…" he says, choosing his words carefully.

"And on the inside?" I ask, curious to know the answer.

He shakes his head, and then turns his eyes away from me. "I'm not sure."

I want to scream at him. I want to tell him exactly what kind of person I am, but the truth is, I'm not sure. The only thing I know is what kind of person I would want to be, if I hadn't been born into this life. I want to be passionate and kind, I want to be loyal and protective. I want to be someone's daughter, someone's friend, I want to be the kind of person that others are proud to love.

But I am none of those things.

I can't be.

I am a soldier.

"Rose?"

I stand up abruptly, "I'm going to go check on our progress, we should be stopping soon."

…

I manage to avoid Dimitri and his prying questions for the rest of the trip to the Lone Star Holding Facility. I wonder if the name is supposed to be some kind of inside joke among people who still remember what Texas was like before the state system was dissolved.

I find my way back into Dimitri's compartment as we pull into the station, he has since been joined by seven other individuals. Each brandishing a pair of cuffs similar to Dimitri's, although they appear to be in far worse shape.

I crouch down in front of Dimitri so that I can unlock his restraints. I'm still wearing the bandages he had helped me apply a few days earlier. He looks down at me when my hands brush his. He moves slightly so that he can hold one of my hands in his own and squeezes it. I try not to gasp, and I look around to see if anyone has noticed. When I see that everyone is preoccupied with their own manacles, I turn my gaze up to meet his. His eyes are wide with some emotion I can't discern. I remember the first time I had looked into his eyes, they had been full of anger and hatred, but that's not how he's looking at me now. I think he wants to tell me something, maybe he's asking me to keep him safe, maybe he's trying to reassure me, or trying to tell me that he trusts me. I wish I could know what he's thinking, or at least that he could know what I was thinking: that he can trust me, that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get him out of here.

I suck in my breath and finish removing his cuffs. I let him stand and stretch, but I have to re-secure his arms behind his back a few moments later. I grip his arm with one of my bandaged hands and we make our way out of the train and onto the platform. Night has fallen and the platform is crowded. I see that there had been more people on the train than I had realized.

The holding facility has its own station within its stone walls. These walls aren't made of crumbling stone though, not like the walls of the compounds. They are at least twenty feet high, and are made of concrete, complete with wicked looking rows of barbed wire adorning their tops. I can see guard towers in every direction I look, and each has its own spotlight. The lights dance back and forth, illuminating random parts of the facility. They never stop moving.

There are soldiers everywhere, wearing their elite black jumpsuits. I see a rainbow of belt colors. Some are white, some are red, but most of them are silver. Silver belts are reserved for mostly combat oriented soldiers. They're the fighters, though they're usually not very bright.

"Shit," I mutter, to no one in particular.

Dimitri lets out a shallow breath, and I wonder if he's having the same realization that I am: getting out of here is going to be a lot tougher than we had anticipated.

"It's fine," I whisper. "We're fine."

He doesn't say anything, because at that moment, I am ambushed by a group of silver-belted soldiers. One of them wrenches Dimitri out of my grip and begins dragging him toward the other side of the platform where prisoners are being rounded up and led away.

I grab the nearest one by the wrist, ready to demand that my prisoner be released back into my custody, but before I can barely get a word out, the soldier whirls around and decks me. I see his fist flying toward my face at the last second and manage to avoid part of the blow. He gets me just above my right eye. I feel my skin split open as I stagger back. My vision is tinged with red, but not because I'm angry. Blood is pouring out of my wound and trickling down my cheeks like little crimson tears.

It only takes a moment for me to assume a defensive position, and I prepare myself to fight through the pain and the little tiny stars that are dancing in my peripheral. But the soldier is already gone. I look around and realize that no one seems to have noticed the altercation, making me think that this sort of behavior is to be expected.

I crane my neck, trying to find Dimitri in the sea of soldiers and civilians, but he's gone, swallowed up by the darkness and the moving bodies. I curse myself, I've been here less than five minutes and I've already managed to lose Dimitri.

**What did you guys think? I've wanted to write this chapter for so long! Do you think Rose will be able to escape with Dimitri? Let me know in a review!**


	13. Chapter 13

**_Vasilisa –_**

"You need to eat."

I don't bother to glance up at Victor when he speaks, and instead of responding, I continue to stir the contents of the bowl in front of me with my spoon.

"Vasilisa," says Victor. He is trying to keep his voice level, but it is tinged with annoyance. "A hunger strike isn't going to bring Dimitri back."

I freeze, spoon in hand, at the sound of his name. Rose and Dimitri had been gone for two days now, and each of those days had felt like a lifetime. I can hardly sleep at night, even with the lantern that Rose had given me. The light isn't as bright as it had been the first time she ignited it; it grows dimmer every day. The dying lantern feels like a cruel representation of my own waning hope. Food turns to ash in my mouth, and my throat constricts with each breath – I am sick with worry.

"What if they don't come back?" I ask, still staring down at my uneaten supper.

Victor lets out a labored breath, one that eventually turns into a cough. I peer at him through my lashes and see that he has a rag clamped over his mouth. His coughing fit passes and I avert my eyes before he notices me watching.

"They?" he asks me.

I drop my spoon into the bowl, watching it slip beneath the surface of the broth, disappearing from sight. "They," I repeat. "Dimitri and Rose."

"I wasn't aware that you cared whether or not she returned." He speaks with his usual candor, though I know Victor is studying me intently, waiting to pick apart my response.

"If Rose doesn't come back, neither will Dimitri," I tell him pointedly.

"Hmm," he muses. "Rose is a clever girl. You don't become an investigator without developing a certain skillset; one that I think will aid her in her endeavors."

I finally turn my gaze on where he sits across the table from me. "You speak highly of Rose. Wouldn't someone like her make a valuable ally?"

The corners of his mouth twitch and he folds his hands together on his lap. "An ally is not valuable if they cannot be trusted, don't be naïve Vasilisa. I taught you better than that."

"You trusted her with Dimitri's life," I tell him coldly.

I can practically hear the cogs in Victor's head spinning as he formulates a response to my accusation. "That was Dimitri's choice to make – not mine, and not yours."

"You could have stopped him!" I snap. "He listens to you! You've always looked out for him, treated him like a son, how could you let him do something so dangerous?" My chest is heaving. I want to take out all of my frustration on him, but I snap my mouth shut. My lips become a dam, holding back a flood of unspoken words.

"I care deeply for Dimitri, it is true. I remember a time when the two of you would sneak onto the roof to count the stars." There is no warmth in Victor's tone as he recalls the memory of a young Dimitri. "I taught him when he was a boy, but now he is a man; a man who knows that sometimes we must make sacrifices."

"I don't recall the lesson on sacrifice," I tell him bitterly. "Or would you not have me do the same? I am just as capable as Dimitri, why not have Rose arrest me?"

"Don't be absurd," he tells me as he rises slowly from his seat. "Yes, you are capable, more than capable, but I would not risk your life, Vasilisa."

"Why?" I say through gritted teeth. "Why him and not me?"

He is standing now, and he towers over me. "You talk of determining a person's value; you compare the capabilities of others, but do not consider your own. Vasilisa, you are more intelligent and more important than you know, you are a vessel for change." He speaks calmly, but there is a fiery passion in his jade green eyes.

"I don't understand," I tell him blankly.

"I saw your potential even when you were just a small girl, drawing with her fingers in the dirt. Your parents saw it too, the way you understood things, the way you saw the world, even the way people responded to you. You're special."

"Uncle," I say in a shaky voice. "I am none of those things, I'm no one…I'm…"

_I'm overwhelmed, I'm scared, I'm confused._

"The time for doubting yourself is over," he tells me as he turns away. "Your parents did not die for you to grow up weak."

I flinch at the mention of my parents. "My parents died for nothing, they were murdered."

He whirls around. "Do not," he says with a deadly calm, "ever say that again. Your parents died because they were teachers, they sought to continue their profession even after the Pulse. They taught anyone who was willing to learn. They died because the RPD knew your parents were a threat to Executor Ozera's rule."

I feel a lump rising in my throat. This is the most Victor has ever said to me about my parents. I used to cry, to beg him to tell me about them. He had always refused me, saying that it wouldn't help to dwell on the past. I eventually had learned to keep my mouth shut, that questions about my parents were not the ones he wanted me to ask. Tears are stinging the corners of my eyes, but I won't let myself cry.

He crosses the room to stand with his back to me and gazes out of the window thoughtfully. "The world is changing, the people are restless, and soon it will be time."

My legs are trembling, forcing me to remain in my chair. "Time for what?" I ask, even though a part of me doesn't want to know the answer.

He turns his head to the side so that he can peer over his shoulder at me. His face is hidden in shadows, and his expression is unreadable. "For a revolution."

…

I shiver as I lay awake in bed that night, but it's not from the cold. Victor's words echo across the expanses of my mind, scratching at the insides of my skull and keeping me awake.

_Time for a revolution._

Victor is planning something, only I can't be sure of what. He hadn't said anything more to me after dinner. He had disappeared into his room under the pretenses of feeling ill.

I feel the weight of Victor's revelation pushing down on me, crushing my chest - my parents had been teachers, and it had gotten them killed. They had been murdered in cold blood because they wanted to see the world learn.

I hate Executor Ozera. She is able to rule NAAMA because she has kept us weak all this time, we are easily manipulated and that makes us easy to control – we don't know any better. Who knows how many other innocent people had to die because they were threats to that system? How many others had died like my parents?

The tears that had been threatening to spill down my cheeks earlier have all dried up, leaving me feeling numb. The lantern on my bedside table flickers. I push myself up onto my elbow and reach out with the other hand. I grab the tiny light and stare at it.

"Rose," I whisper. "Where are you?"

The light goes out, plunging my room into darkness. I shudder and let the lantern roll out of my grasp and onto the floor. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to take control of the darkness. I do my best to clear my mind. I don't want to think about where Rose and Dimitri are, I don't want to worry about what Victor is planning, and I don't want to mourn my parents all over again. I want all of it to go away. I want to be that little girl on the roof, trying to count the stars, or the one who would sit on her uncle's lap while he told her stories. I don't want to be the person that Victor thinks I am; I don't want to be a vessel for change…

My door is thrown up with astounding force, I can't see the intruder but I can hear their heavy footsteps as they make their way toward my bed. I sit bolt up and open my mouth to scream, but before I can, blinding light fills my room. I shield my eyes with my arm, and when I open them I see Dimitri standing in front of me, holding a larger version of my lantern.

I gasp at the sight of him. His hair is matted with sweat and blood, and I have never seen him look so scared. His eyes are wide with terror, his lips parted as ragged breaths escape them. He is wearing a black jumpsuit, complete with a dark red belt. As I study him, I realize that the belt used to be white, but blood has soaked it through. I want to pinch myself, but I'm scared that the Dimitri in front of me isn't a dream. He drops the lantern and rushes over to me, clutching my shoulders.

He is very real.

"Lissa," he says pleadingly. "Come down stairs, please."

"Dimitri, what are you doing here? When did you get back?" I feel dizzy, overwhelmed with emotion and questions.

"Later," he says, pulling me out of bed.

I grab onto him for support as I untangle my legs from the blankets, but his jumpsuit is slick with a sticky substance. I pull back my hands, and my stomach rolls over. They are red.

"You're hurt!" I tell him, my eyes scour his body, searching for the source of the blood.

He ignores me and grabs me by my wrist, pulling me toward the door. "It's not my blood," he says in a shaky voice. "I'm not hurt."

"Then where – " I ask bewildered.

His grip on me tightens and he turns his head to look at me. "It's Rose."

**Don't worry, the next chapter will be told from Rose's POV. Until then, what do you guys think happened to her? Let me know in a review!**


	14. Chapter 14

_**Rose – **_

Blood continues to trickle down my cheeks as I shove past my fellow soldiers on the station platform. I feel my elbow connect with some one's shoulder and I hear a cry of pain, but I don't bother turning around to apologize. In this moment, I have only one purpose – find Dimitri. The crowd is suffocating, their shouts deafening. Night has fallen, and the searchlights that sit on top of the guard towers of the holding facility cast beams that dance among the sea of shifting bodies. I crane my neck as I weave in and out of the crowd; Dimitri is nowhere to be seen.

I narrow my eyes, and notice a building off to my left that looks exactly like the administrative building at the academy I had grown up in, complete with an ornate entrance, a flag, and armed guards. There is a chance that someone in that building can tell me what happened to Dimitri, I also run the risk of being told to go screw myself. The latter seems more likely, if my head wound is any indication of the kind of courtesy I will be shown here.

My tongue runs over my bottom lip as I contemplate my next move and the taste is bitter and metallic. My face is streaked with blood and I feel a little dizzy. I realize that I don't have a choice; I will never find Dimitri this way. I turn sharply and cut through the throng of soldiers, making my way toward what I hope is the administrative building. With any luck, I'll find where Dimitri is being held, and I'll be able to study its layout before I attempt to break back into it later tonight.

I feel like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water over my head as I recall what my true purpose for coming here is: stealing information from the military. I force those thoughts to the back of my mind, I have tunnel vision and Dimitri is the light at the end of it.

Once free of the horde, I stride purposefully toward the guards who stand on either side of the metal doors that serve as the entrance to the building. They stiffen at my approach; each of them is wearing a silver belt and brandishes a standard issue assault rifle. One of them is gaping at me. I keep my head held high and avoid their gazes. The red stains on my face probably match the red of my belt, but I walk as if nothing is wrong. One of the guards steps in front of me just as I extend my hand to grip the handle of the door.

"This area is restricted," he tells me sternly.

He is taller than me, but I fix him with a glare that makes him shrink back. I'm not sure what he finds more intimidating, my face or the blood. "Excuse me?" I ask icily.

He looks down at my waist and then back up at me. I hope that my status as an investigator is enough to get me by.

"State your business," he stammers. His frightened demeanor makes me doubt the quality of training. I find myself hoping that the Lone Star Facility is full of soldiers like him.

I keep my face perfectly blank, "The business of an investigator does not concern you," I tell him, a hint of superiority in my voice.

He looks down at his own belt, "I'm just doing my job," he tells me apologetically. He glances over his shoulder at his partner, who shrugs and then steps away from where we both stand.

"You won't have a job when your superiors find out that you refused to let me pass."

His face reflects the hesitation he must be feeling, but he eventually apologizes and lets me through.

I let out a steady breath as the doors close behind me, and I find myself standing in a brightly lit room. The floors are a polished marble, and the walls are blindingly white. In the center of the room is a circular desk made of the same smooth stone as the floor, and at the center of it sits a woman. She glances up at me, and then back down at the knife she is rubbing against a whetstone, sharpening it to deadly perfection. I approach her with the same confidence that I has used on the guards outside of the building. She still doesn't look up at me, even as I stand with my elbows perched on the counter, my fingers drumming on its surface impatiently. I clear my throat.

The woman tenses up and raises her head deliberately, her charcoal eyes boring holes into my own. "What?" She doesn't put down her knife as she glares at me.

"My name is Rose Hathaway, I'm an investigator with the Risk Prevention Department," I start off, hoping that my title will intimidate her the way it had earlier. "I arrived at this facility with a prisoner. We were separated on the platform, and when I tried to go after him, I was accosted by a guard."

The sides of her mouth quirk up in amusement, "So that explains what happened to your face."

"Is it standard protocol here at the Lone Star Facility for soldiers to assault their superiors?" I ask her icily.

She shrugs, "I wouldn't know, I'm not technically a soldier." I hadn't noticed until she mentioned it, but she is not wearing a black jumpsuit. Hers is a ruddy brown color, which is reserved for trainees. "But I'll tell you what is protocol; rounding up the prisoners like cattle as soon as they step onto the platform. We like to rough 'em up a bit before we get them into the cells."

"Wonderful," I mutter under my breath.

"We send the newly instated guards out to escort the prisoners; they're a bunch of trigger-happy morons, eager to prove themselves, that's probably why one of them sucker-punched you when you tried to intervene," her tone is casual, like getting punched in the face is just a part of the charm here at the Lone Star facility.

"Where are the prisoners now?" I ask her impatiently.

She glances down at the watch on her wrist. "Right now? Probably gettin' sorted, they'll be assigned to cells after that."

I grip the edge of the counter tightly, my knuckles turning white as I do. "Where are the cells? How will I know which one he is assigned to?"

She raises one eyebrow. "Why do you care so much?" she asks suspiciously. "You've done your job. You should be getting on that train so that it can carry you back to your fancy RPD headquarters."

I release the counter and try to eradicate the emotion from my posture and expression. "This prisoner is dangerous, and it took me months to track him down. He was my assignment from the beginning, and I want to see it through to the end."

The girl's suspicions melt away and a wicked grin takes over. "I get it," she says. "You want to be here when he meets the firing squad."

My stomach ties itself in knots as I picture Dimitri, blindfolded and gagged, standing in front of a battalion of sharp shooters. I swallow hard. "Yes," I say deadpan.

"I have no way of knowing what cell they'll assign him to," she tells me as she starts rifling through one of the drawers behind her desk. "But I can tell you where the cells are." She hands me a laminated sheet of paper. "You can find out more there."

I glance down at the sheet and see that it is a map of the facility.

"You're here" she says, leaning over the counter to point to a building on the map. "This is intelligence and records, but you need to go here." She points to another building on the western side of the facility. "But it probably won't do you any good to go there now; the sorting process is a nightmare. You can stay in the housing units until tomorrow morning. They're right here," she says, pointing one final time to a building not far from the one we are in now.

I nod at her as way of thanks. She resumes her sharpening and I turn on my heel, fighting the urge to break out into a run in the direction of the holding cells. I recall what the girl had said, about this being where the records are stored; this is where the information I need will most likely be. I walk as slowly as I can, my eyes dart around as I try to get a feel for the layout. To my right and left are sealed doors and there are tiny electrical panels next to the handles. I will probably need to swipe some kind of keycard or access code to get through them.

The door in front of me opens and a soldier wearing a blue belt enters the building, blue is for intelligence. I bend down, pretending to re-lace one of my combat boots. He walks right past me and turns toward the door to my right. I peer at him out of the corner of my eye and watch as he swipes a plastic card over the metal panel. I hear a loud beep, a clicking sound, and then the man pulls the door open. I try to see past him and into the hallway, but the heavy door shuts too quickly. I have a feeling that breaking back into this building will not be as simple as the time I had broken into the administrative building at my academy, and that I will need more than just my pajamas and my combat boots.

…

The bottom floor of the building where the soldiers are housed is composed of a common area, a mess hall, and a training room. On the way over here, I had concocted a plan, one that involved a fresh face, not one covered in dried blood. I find the showers on the second floor and begin peeling off my jumpsuit. My entire body aches as I slide my arms out of the sleeves, and I wince as I pull my tank top over my head. I can't recall the last time I had slept through the night, and the exhaustion is beginning to take its toll.

I step into the shower stall and turn the knob all the way to the right; I want the water to be scalding. The showerhead sputters to life and the water beats down on my aching muscles. I glance down and see blood mixing with water as the liquids rush together and spiral down the drain. I can't let myself linger though, and I force myself to leave the comfort and the warmth as soon as I have scrubbed myself clean.

I run the parts of my jumpsuit that are covered in filth or blood under the faucet of the sink, trying my best to return it to its original state. I pull it on, but leave my tank top on the floor. I zip up the jumpsuit only halfway, exposing a little more of my breasts than any decent soldier would. My hair is mostly dry and I run my fingers through it, doing my best to tame the wild dark strands that tumble down my shoulders. I glance at my reflection and see that I look pretty good, considering.

I make my way to the mess hall on the first floor and grab a tray full of food. I scan the tables, and start walking towards a group of soldiers, all wearing blue belts.

"Is this seat taken?" I ask one of them.

The soldier sitting at the end of the table looks up at me with grey-blue eyes. At first he seems annoyed at having his meal interrupted, but his expression transforms as he takes in my appearance. His eyes wash over me, and even though there is tray of mostly eaten food in front of him, he looks ravenously hungry.

"I'm afraid so," he tells, his lips forming a sort of mock pouty face. "I'm afraid the only available seat is on my lap."

The other soldiers sitting near him chuckle, but I pretend not to notice them. I set my tray down gingerly on the table, bending over slightly as I do.

"Are you sure?" I ask him. "That seat looks empty." I nod my chin in the direction of the vacant seat across from him.

He continues to stare at me, only it isn't at my face. "I suppose it is," he says reluctantly.

I sit down, never taking my eyes off of him. He has short blonde hair and a face that could only be described as beautiful. Something about his smug demeanor makes me think that this guy probably doesn't hear the word "no" very often.

"What's your name?" he asks me.

"You first," I say, sliding my tray in front of me.

"Jesse," he purrs.

"Well Jesse, what do the blue boys do for fun around here?"

This earns me a grin, "Why would an investigator like you want to know something like that? I didn't think you guys knew how to have fun."

"We don't," I tell him with a sigh. "That's why I'm asking, I think I would like to learn."

His eyes darken with interest. "Today is your lucky day, I just so happen to be an excellent teacher."

…

After dinner, I let Jesse lead me to his living quarters. It became clear halfway through the meal that Jesse is an arrogant bastard. Had I known him back in the academy, I probably would have looked for any excuse to kick his ass, but for now, he suits my needs.

"Not bad," I tell him as I glance around his small apartment. "You must be pretty important."

He saunters over to the kitchenette and begins rifling through his cabinets. "I am," he calls over his shoulder.

I make myself at home, sitting on a worn out sofa and propping my feet up on the table in front of me. Jesse sets down a jar of something on the table and two small glasses, and then sits down next to me.

I eye the jar warily, "What is that?"

"Hooch," he tells me with a wicked grin. "The Intelligence boys make the best stuff." He pours the clear liquid into the glasses and hands me one. "Cheers," he says, and then downs the drink in one gulp.

I bring the glass to my lips and take a sip, the liquid burns as it slides down my throat. "You're right," I tell him, trying not to choke. "It's good."

He pours himself another and polishes it off. "You never told me your name," he says, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his uniform.

"I didn't?" I ask, taking my feet off of the coffee table and leaning forward so that our faces are only a few inches apart. "I could have sworn I told you."

He shakes his head, his grey eyes glossing over with desire. "No," he breathes. "You didn't"

I can smell the alcohol on his breath as I let my lips brush over his, teasingly at first. He mashes his mouth onto mine, his lips are parted and the kiss is aggressive. He wraps two strong arms around my waist and pulls me onto his lap. I let him take control, let his hands wander over the fabric of my uniform. One of his hands snakes up my neck and entwines itself in my hair, he pulls back on it and brings his lips down to kiss my throat, making a wet trail down across my collarbone.

"Your name," he whispers between kisses. "What is your name?"

I pull away and offer him a smoldering look; one that I hope will distract him. It works and he moves in on me, forcing me to lie back on the couch as he positions himself on top of me. He kisses me again, a little more desperately than he had before.

He pauses to look down at me, "Having fun yet?"

I nod enthusiastically, and bring my hands up to frame his face, "I am, but…"

"But?" he asks.

"I think I would like it better like this."

I let my fingers slide down the sides of his face, grazing his neck. I bring my knee up hard, nailing him in the groin as I simultaneously close my hands around his throat. The blow to his manhood catches him off guard and knocks the breath from his lungs. I squeeze, hard enough to cut off his air flow, but not hard enough to permanently damage his trachea. His eyes are bulging and his hands claw at me, but his movements are sluggish thanks to the alcohol.

A few moments later, I see his eyelids flutter shut and he goes limp in my grasp. The full weight of his body collapses onto me, and I shove him off, letting him roll face-first onto the floor. I leap off of the couch, bending down to dig through Jesse's pockets. I find his keycard and slip it into the pocket of my jumpsuit. I reach around his waist to undo his belt. I stand up and yank my own belt through the loops and replace it with his.

I glance down at where Jesse lays sprawled out on the floor. I grab the jar of hooch and pour it on the floor around him. I grab one of the glasses and return it to the cabinet, not wanting to leave any evidence that a second person had been in the apartment.

I leave his apartment, shutting the door softly behind me. I glance down at my watch and realize that midnight is fast approaching. I slink down the stairs, careful to avoid the gazes of anyone I meet. When I reach the exit, I freeze. My lips are swollen, and I try to shake off the feel of Jesse's hands sliding over my body. I feel dirty, and I find myself wondering what Dimitri would think of what I had done.

I shake my head, forcing Dimitri to the back of my mind. I need to focus on the mission at hand. I brace myself and then open the door, slipping into the night.

…

There are still guards posted outside of the intelligence building, but they aren't the same from earlier. I had been counting on a new rotation. They let me pass when they see the blue belt cinched around my waist. The circular desk is empty, and I veer off immediately in the direction I had seen the man pass earlier. I pull out Jesse's keycard, hoping against hope that it will get me through the security door. I swipe it over the panel and I hear the same beeping sound, followed by a click.

I find myself standing at the end of a long corridor lined with what seems like hundreds of doors, each baring its own security panel. I curse under my breath and begin walking toward the end of the hallway, reading the signs posted on the doors as I do. I try not to panic, realizing that the door I need to find probably won't be marked "PROOF OF HAVEN EXSISTENCE, RIGHT THIS WAY." The signs say things like "Personnel Records," and "Foreign Affairs."

I finally stop in front of a door marked "Restricted Access." I decide that if the Havens do exist, any record of them probably won't be accessible by just anyone. I swipe Jesse's card, and the door clicks open.

I guess Jesse is as important as he claimed to be.

A feeling of déjà vu sweeps over me as I take in my surroundings. The room looks just like the one I had broken into at the academy. The walls are lined with file cabinets, each carefully labeled. I don't waste any more time and I make a beeline for the nearest one. I yank open the top draw and begin sifting through its contents. Nothing jumps out at me and so I move onto the next drawer, and then onto the next cabinet.

I am unaware of the time as it passes; I don't know how long I have been in that room when I finally stumble across a folder with the word "Insurgencies" scrawled across the top. Many people think of the Havens as a place where everyone has electricity and sits in circles, but instead of singing Kumbayah, they discuss scientific theory. Dimitri had told me that Victor believes the Havens are not some mythical land untouched by the Pulse, but a refuge for rebels and for those who oppose NAAMA and Executor Ozera's rule.

My heart pounds in my chest as I open the folder. Inside are maps of NAAMA and hand-written notes. I flip through them and stop when I notice a list of places, most of them scratched out.

_New Orleans, Portland, Sacramento, Boston…_

I recognize a few of them, but I keep reading until I get to the bottom of the page.

_Tallahassee._

I have no idea where Tallahassee is, but the name is circled multiple times. I flip the page over and begin reading:

_August 2, 2030_

_Executor Ozera has called off the hunt for rebel encampments, she wants to refocus our attention on the Purge. I think she is making a mistake; we never made it to Florida – to Tallahassee. It was the last place on our list, and it was the most promising. All of our intelligence points to Tallahassee…_

I look at the torn edges of the paper and realize that most of these pages had been torn out of a book, most likely a journal, and this entry is only a year old. I shove the note into one of my pockets, hoping that it's enough, hoping that Victor will tell me where my parents are after he's read it.

I have a gnawing feeling in my gut, one brought on by the thought of my parents. I think back to the night I had overheard my superiors discussing them.

"_If Victor survived the Purge, is it possible that Ibrahim and Janine survived as well?"_

_The Purge. _

I pull the note out of my pocket and read it through again.

"_She wants to refocus our attention on the Purge."_

I put the note away and began frantically searching through the cabinets, searching for any sign of the word "Purge." Whatever it is, it had nearly killed Victor, and it might have killed my parents. Could this be the information Victor was referring to?

I find a file that looks promising and begin rifling through it. My blood runs cold as I come across a familiar name, though it is not my own.

_Dragomir._

The file contains a detailed report on how the Risk Prevention Department had been searching for Eric and Rhea Dragomir…and their daughter. The report describes how they had been tracked down and shot on sight, but the child had not been found. A horrible realization washes over me.

_No wonder Vasilisa hates me._

_Investigators killed her parents._

I swallow back the bile that had been rising in my throat and read the rest of it. I have to read the last line on the page over and over again because I can't believe the words:

_Eric and Rhea reported to the RPD for spreading illegal content, initial report made by Victor Dashkov, current whereabouts – unknown._

**Okay, I am so not done with this chapter, but it's already 4,000 words and I haven't even gotten to the best part. I'm going to break it up into two parts, so the next chapter will also be told from Rose's POV. It should be up sometime today, but I wanted to give you guys a little something. I really want to know what you guys think so please please please leave me a review!**


	15. Chapter 15

_**Rose – **_

I stumble blindly back to the housing units, not paying attention to the spotlights or the people I pass. My head feels like it's going to split open, and out would pour the horrible truths I had just discovered.

_Victor is the reason Vasilisa's parents are dead._

_He's the reason she hates me._

My legs carry me up the stairs to the top floor of the building where guests stay. The door of a random suite has barely closed behind me before I start peeling off my jumpsuit. I don't want to wear it any more, I don't want to be an investigator, I don't want to be the kind of person who hunts down families, who murders parents and takes them away from their children. I am disgusted with myself.

I crawl under the sheets of the bed, and I cry. It's the kind of cry that cuts off your breath and makes you shake. I am racked with uncontrollable, heaving sobs, and I can't seem to make them go away, a part of me doesn't want them to. I deserve to feel like this.

Eventually, my energy levels become so depleted that even crying is a chore. I lay awake, puffy faced and numb, staring up at the ceiling. I know I should sleep, that I won't be able to save myself or Dimitri if I can barely get out of bed, but the secrets of the Purge are swirling around in my head like a maelstrom.

I prop myself up on my elbows and glance around the room, searching for something that might distract me until I can fall asleep. My eyes eventually fall on my jumpsuit, which lies in a pile on the floor. I notice a strange bulge in one of the pockets, and my eyes widen when I recall what it is: Dimitri's journal.

I peel back the covers and swing my legs around without even thinking. I walk on shaky legs to the heap of fabric and rummage through one of its many pockets. My fingers eventually brush over the worn leather of the journal. I feel guilty as I walk with it clutched to my chest, and climb back into the bed, but I decide that a few more secrets can't hurt.

I flip through the pages and see that it is mostly diagrams and definitions of words, most of which I have never heard of before. I stop at a particularly beautiful sketch of a girl, she has long dark hair and delicate hands, but none of her facial features have been filled in, she looks empty. I read the words scrawled beneath it:

_"I keep trying to draw her face, but I can never quite capture it. I had hoped that once I'd transferred her image onto paper, it would stop haunting me, but it hasn't helped. Every time I close my eyes, I can picture her looking down at me, the way she had the first night we had encountered each other. My hands had been tied behind my back and her legs were wrapped around me…I hate myself for thinking about her. I keep having to remind myself that she is a soldier. She is cruel and selfish…"_

I close the book, not wanting to read any further. I have always wondered what Dimitri thought about me, now I know.

I toss the book across the room and roll over so that I am facing away from it. I squeeze my eyes shut and think back to when Dimitri and I had been together on the train, he had told me he didn't know what kind of person I am on the inside…_Liar, he already has me figured out. I am cruel and I am selfish._

…

I awake the next morning feeling anything but refreshed. My limbs feel heavy, pinned down by the weight of the emotions churning within me. I force myself out of bed; my movements are sluggish as I pull on my jumpsuit. I zip it up to my chin and decide to continue wearing Jesse's blue belt, folding my own into one of my pockets. I notice Dimitri's journal lying on the floor, a part of me wants to leave it there, but I know that leaving it behind would be a mistake. I shove it into a pocket and then slam the door behind me.

I grab an apple from the mess hall, worried that if I stay any longer, I'll eventually run into Jesse. I chew on the apple as I make my way toward the western part of the facility, the holding cells looming in the distance. The building is identical to the intelligence building, and the male stationed in the circular desk informs me that the only prisoner who was brought in from the Midwestern Province is being held in a cell on the third floor. He scribbles an ID number on a piece of my paper and hands it to me.

The guard at the top of the stairs stops me, and I suddenly regret not wearing my investigator's uniform.

"Stop," he says. "I haven't seen you here before, are you new?"

"Yes," I tell him. "I arrived with the prisoner transport last night."

"Ah," he says. "That explains it, are you lost or…"

"No, I was told I would be given the opportunity to personally interrogate the prisoner I had been escorting."

He raises one eyebrow in confusion, "You blue folks don't usually handle that sort of thing."

I want to kick myself. "The circumstances surrounding his arrest are…unusual," I tell him vaguely. "I was the one who uncovered the threat he posed and my superiors thought it would be best that I be the one to extract any further information from him."

His eyebrows furrow together. "Alright," he tells me. "Just let the guard outside this door know which one he is and we'll have him brought down to one of the second floor interrogation rooms."

He hesitates for a moment, and then speaks again. "Actually…I had better tell him, who are you looking for?"

I tell him Dimitri's prisoner ID number that I had been given by the information desk downstairs, and he directs me to a room on the second floor.

I find the room without too much difficulty. It is completely bare, save for a wooden table and two chairs. One of the chairs has metal rings on it. There is a one way mirror, but as far as I can tell there is no way for anyone to hear what is going on in the room, only to watch it. I wait for ten minutes, pacing the floor, and eventually the door swings open and the guard from the third floor steps through, followed by Dimitri.

I haven't seen him since we had been separated on the platform yesterday, he has a cut on his lip and his hair is matted, but he looks healthy enough. A look of relief washes over his features when he sees me, but I quickly avert my gaze.

_Cruel and selfish_.

"I'll be outside if you need anything," the guard tells me.

The hallway leading to this room had been empty; something I had been grateful for since I would need to find a way to get Dimitri out of this room, but now the guard waiting outside the room is going to complicate things.

I nod at the guard and he pulls the door shut behind him, leaving me alone with Dimitri.

"Rose," says Dimitri, taking a step towards me. "What happened to you?" His hands are bound together and he raises them, as if he intends to stroke my cheek.

I flinch away from him, "I'm fine."

He almost looks hurt, but his face quickly settles back into its usual, stoic setting. "Did you get what we came here for?"

"Yes," I tell him, my tone devoid of any emotion. "Now we just need to get out of here."

His mouth is set in a grim line, "What are you going to do about the guard?"

"Just give me a moment," I say, chewing on my bottom lip as I consider my options. I take a calming breath. My options are pretty limited. "Hit me," I finally tell him.

Dimitri's expression falters as he blinks back his surprise, "What?"

"Hit me," I repeat. "He's watching, we need to draw him in here."

"I'm not going to hit you, Rose," he tells me calmly.

I let out a breath in frustration. "Why the hell not?"

"I…" he falters. "I can't hit you."

I resume my pacing; Dimitri's eyes follow me back and forth across the room. My mind is racing. A fight would be the perfect distraction, it would lure the guard in here and I could take him down. He would never see me coming; he would be too focused on the very large Russian in the room. Dimitri's refusal to play along forces me to come up with another idea.

_Cruel and selfish_.

"Wait here," I tell him, turning in the direction of the door. I knock on it twice before Dimitri can open his mouth to protest. "It's me," I call.

The door opens and the guard sticks his head in the doorway. "Is there a problem?" he asks.

I move too quickly for him to notice what I'm doing. I step back and throw the full weight of my body against the door. The guard's head is caught between the metal of the door and the frame. I hear a sickening crunch, and then the sound of a body slumping to the floor. I pull back the door and see that blood has already begun to pool beneath the body of the guard. I grip his collar with both hands and pull him into the room so that the door can shut.

"Rose!" I hear Dimitri cry from behind me.

I ignore him and roll the body over; a pair of glassy eyes stares back up at me when I do. I ignore them too. I remove the ring of keys from his belt and toss them over my shoulder.

"Here," I say without turning around. I unzip the jumpsuit and work to try and pull the guard's limbs from the sleeves. "A little help here?" I ask in frustration.

Soon Dimitri is kneeling beside me, his hands trembling as he helps me remove the guard's uniform.

"Put it on," I tell him, trying to keep my voice steady.

"You didn't have to do that," he says, his voice barely a whisper.

"It's in my nature," I say, completely deadpan. "I am cruel and selfish."

Something flickers behind Dimitri's eyes and he turns away from me. He changes clothing without another word. I wish he would move more quickly. The sight of the body is making me ill.

"What next?" Dimitri asks.

I turn around, taken slightly aback by the sight of him wearing a NAAMA military uniform. The black jumpsuit is a little snug, but the silver belt manages to stretch around the expanse of his waist. He looks deadly.

I extend my hand out to him, "Keys."

He presses them into my palm, and the feel of his skin brushing against mine sends a jolt through my system, but I can't dwell on it. "I don't know how much time we have before someone notices…" I swallow hard, "before someone notices he's gone."

Dimitri nods his understanding, and together we make our way out of the interrogation room. I lock the door behind us and secure the ring of keys onto one of my belt loops.

"Stay close," I tell Dimitri over my shoulder.

He doesn't answer, he merely quickens his pace so that it matches my own. We manage to make it out of the building without drawing any attention to ourselves. My heart thunders in my chest; I hadn't planned this far ahead. Every scenario I had ever imagined had ended badly, I had never dared to dream that we would make it this far.

"Keep walking," I say under my breath, trying to sound more confident than I am.

I can try and sneak him back into the housing units, but how long will it be before someone discovers the body? It isn't safe for Dimitri and I to linger here. I walk with purpose, even though I feel like I don't have one. Scaling the walls isn't an option, neither is a vehicular transport. I refuse to stop though, wanting to put as much distance between myself and the holding cells as possible.

A blaring alarm jars me from my thoughts.

_Too soon_.

I curse under my breath and grab Dimitri's arm, tugging him along, trying not to look panicked or guilty.

"What's that?" he shouts over the alarm.

"The guard," is all I can manage to say.

By now, the body has been discovered. They'll notice that his uniform is missing, and so is a prisoner. It won't be long before someone figures out what happened: that there is an imposter among their ranks.

Soldiers are rushing across the grounds of the facility, shouting orders at one another. I break out into a brisk trot and Dimitri follows suit. It's too late when I realize that we are heading in the opposite direction of the other soldiers. There is obviously some protocol here, something I'm missing, and my ignorance is likely to be both mine and Dimitri's downfall.

A few of the soldiers stop to watch us, and so I run faster. The alarm continues to sound, but I can hardly hear it over the roaring sound in my ears as the blood rushes through my veins. Adrenaline is coursing through me, my muscles tense, ready to take on any threat.

I whip my head around to make sure that Dimitri is still beside me, and out of the corner of my eye, I see a group soldiers, all clad in black and silver, running after us. Before I can shout to Dimitri to run faster, I hear the faint cry of a train whistle. The alarm had almost drowned out the sound completely, but I know it's there. The platform is about a hundred yards away, and I can see the train moving slowly as it prepares to depart. I know that the train is our only hope.

I drop back so that I'm running next to Dimitri. "The train," I shout through labored breaths. "We have to board."

He glances over at me and I see how exhausted he is. He probably hasn't slept on days, and now he is running for his life.

_He isn't going to make it._

I reach down and take his hand in my own, lacing our fingers together and squeeze them reassuringly. He runs a little harder, but doesn't break out of my grasp. We're closer to the platform now, but the train is moving faster and the guards are getting closer. I hear Dimitri panting beside me, he sucks in a deep breath and presses on. I have had years of endurance training and even my lungs burn and there is a sharp pain in my side, I can only imagine how he feels.

We reach the platform and Dimitri stumbles.

"Go!" I shout at him as I let go of his hand.

We're standing at the edge of the platform and the train is moving past us at a fairly alarming rate. Dimitri looks scared, and I don't blame him. We are sandwiched between a train and a group of armed soldiers.

"Dimitri," I say pleadingly. "Just grab the first hand hold you see and swing up onto the train." I turn around and see that the soldiers are not far behind us. "Please," I say, turning back to stare up into his deep brown eyes.

He hesitates, but then nods. We start running again, but this time, in the same direction as the moving train.

"Now!" I scream.

He reaches out a hand and grabs the metal outcropping on one of the train cars, doing his best to swing the rest of his body onto the train. I wait only a split second before doing the same. For a moment, it feels like we are flying, like we're actually going to make it out of here alive.

Before I can register what's happening, I feel a deep, biting pain ripple through me. I can't help but scream. My fragile hold on the train falters and I close my eyes, waiting to plummet to my death as the train hurdles on. It never comes though, and I feel one strong arm wrap around my waist as Dimitri pulls me toward him. Through my daze, I notice a third black figure clinging to the side of the train. Dimitri maneuvers me so that I am pressed beneath him and the train, his body is the only thing keeping me from falling.

My shoulder is throbbing, and the edges of my vision are tinged with black. I feel the train lurch forward as it gains speed. Dimitri moves closer to me, pressing my back into the train, the pain in my shoulder increases astronomically and I scream louder. I hear the sound of metal sliding against metal, and then I feel him try to pull me toward the front of the train. I am at war with the darkness; a part of me knows that I need to stay awake, but another part of me yearns for the sweet, dark oblivion that is unconsciousness.

With one swift movement, Dimitri pushes me backward, only this time I am not shoved against the metal of the train, but into the cargo hold of the car. I squeeze my eyes shut and immediately roll over onto my side, trying to take the pressure off of my shoulder. I hear shouting and grunts and then a scream. My eyes fly open.

_Dimitri._

I clamber to my feet and stagger toward the open cargo door, reaching around with my hand to inspect my shoulder. I shutter when I realize that something metal is protruding out of it. I stifle another scream and pull my hand away from my shoulder; it's slick with blood. I make it to the edge of the train car and crane my neck around the side of the sliding door.

My heart leaps into my throat when I see Dimitri clinging to the edge of the train, moving toward me at an agonizingly slow pace. I reach out a hand to him, and hold onto the walls of the train with the other.

"Dimitri," I yell over the roar of the engine. "Take my hand!"

He inches one hand along the surface of the train. I lean out further trying to reach him, but my wound is crippling. Our fingers brush, but the blood on my hands makes it hard for him to hold onto me. He strains harder, and finally manages to wrap his fingers around my wrist. I do the same, forming a brace.

"On the count of three!" I tell him.

He nods, and I can see him fighting to keep the fear out of his expression.

"One…two…three!"

We move at the same time, and I manage to pull him inside the safety of the cargo train. We topple together, and I nearly black out from the pain when we hit the floor.

"Rose!" Dimitri's voice is frantic. He gets up onto his knees and I can see him hovering over me, his eyes wide with terror. "Rose, you're going to be okay."

I feel one of his hands slide under my waist, be does his best to gently roll me onto my stomach. I hear him suck in his breath. "What happened?" I ask through labored breaths.

"One of the guards followed us onto the train," he says, his voice trembling. "He came out of no where, I saw him behind you, but it was too late and he…" Dimitri's voice trails off.

"That bastard stabbed me," I say, finally letting my eyelids flutter shut. My shoulder is throbbing and I can feel blood pooling beneath me.

"You're going to be okay," I hear him tell me again, but his voice sounds far away, as if we were underwater.

"Yeah?" I ask. "Are you gonna be my nurse?" My words slur together and every breath I take comes slower than the one before it.

I try to recall my training, surely the academy had taught me how to handle a knife wound, but all I can think about is the puddle if blood under my cheek.

I force open my eyes, but all I can see is Dimitri kneeling beside me. "It's okay," I whisper. "You don't have save me."

Dimitri crouches down, doing his best to meet my gaze. "Rose, I am going to take care of you."

I try to laugh but all I can manage is a strange choking sound. "Why?"

He looks at me with those dark eyes, so deep that I feel like I'm drowning. "Because," he says, stroking my hair as he does. "I…I care about you, Roza."

"You shouldn't," I breath." I'm a soldier, and a murderer, and…" my voice dies off.

"Shhh," he tells me. "You are so much more than that."

I hear him murmur something in a language I don't understand, and then he speaks again. "I have to remove the knife."

I feel him place one of his palms on my shoulder, bracing himself. "On the count of three," he says. "One…two…"

"Wait," I cry out. "If I don't…if I don't make it, you should know what I found…"

"No," he tells me sternly. "You don't get to talk like that. You're the strongest person I have ever met, and I'm not going to lose you like this."

I let out a slow breath in compliance.

He pauses and then says, "Three." He yanks out the knife.

And the world falls away.

**Thank you so much for all of your reviews! They really are so encouraging. I know Rose and Dimitri's love story has been a little slow going, but I'm all about the build up. More about Victor's role in the death of Lissa's parents will be revealed a little later. I have a few more surprises in store for you guys too, so stay tuned!**


	16. Chapter 16

_**Vasilisa – **_

"_It's Rose."_

Dimitri tugs at my arm more urgently this time. His normally unreadable expression oscillates between horror and grief. The grim line that his mouth has formed and the wideness of his eyes tells me that whatever has happened to Rose is serious, possibly life threatening. I think back to a time when the thought of one less living investigator for the Risk Prevention Department wouldn't have fazed Dimitri. If you had asked him a week ago what he would have been willing to do to save the life of a soldier, he probably would have thought you were trying to tell a joke.

But now when I look at him, and I see the jet black uniform, slick with Rose's blood, I realize that he doesn't think of her as a soldier any more. I notice the heavy bags under his eyes, and the hard lines of his face. He seems older now than when he left, even though it has only been a few days. I can't explain it, but he is different. There is something about the way he says her name, something about the concern in his voice that makes me think his outward appearance isn't the only thing that has changed.

I had been at war with my feelings toward Rose until this moment. I had grown up hating the investigators, their red belts had always filled me with equal parts loathing and fear, I thought of them as murderers. I had never considered what lay beneath their black uniforms and their cold exteriors; until Rose.

When you strip away the uniform and the guns and the training, she is just a girl; a girl who is risking her career and her life to find out what happened to her parents. She saved my life, and now it looks like she has done the same for Dimitri, maybe at the cost of her own. I knew then that I would do whatever it took to save Rose.

"Wait," I say, pulling my arm out of Dimitri's grasp. "We're probably going to need this." I bend down and snatch the lantern that Dimitri had dropped on the floor. "Let's go."

Dimitri nods and then practically runs out the door. "She's down here," he says throwing his head over his shoulder.

I follow him down the stairs, the light of the lantern bobbing in and out of the darkness as I do. He turns abruptly and into the narrow passageway hidden beneath the stairs. I have to take the stairs two at a time to keep up with him. I skid around the corner and follow him down the hallway, breathless from the pursuit. We burst into the abandoned unit, but at first all I can see is the heavy black cloth that hangs in a circle in the center of the scorched room.

Before Dimitri can reach out a hand to part the drapery, I call out to him. "Dimitri, wait." I take special care to keep my tone gentle but firm. "You have to tell me what happened first, what's behind that curtain?"

He looks past the blackness, almost like he can see through it. "We almost made it out, we were on the train and we were going to make it, but…he came out of nowhere and he had a knife." His dark eyes look black in the dim light. "Rose was trying to make sure I was safe, she…she was distracted, _I _distracted her." I realize now that he blames himself. "He stabbed her in the back, I pulled it out and I tried to bandage it up using whatever I could find. She was in and out of consciousness, but she lost a lot of blood…"

"Stop," I say holding up a hand. "That's enough." I can tell by his demeanor that recalling the events that led up to this moment is hurting him.

I stride toward him and place a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer him what comfort I can. He doesn't seem to notice as he pulls apart the curtain and gestures for me to enter. The air trapped between the heavy sheets of fabric is cloying; filled with a mixture of dirt, fire, and blood. There are candles burning everywhere and they cast little shadows across the barren floor and across the silhouette of a man standing in front of a long table. Victor turns around to meet my gaze. His expression is almost the complete opposite of Dimitri's; he is calm and collected. He steps to the side, letting me catch my first glimpse of what lies on the table.

A girl lies on its surface; she looks small – like a child. She lies on her stomach with her left arm dangling off the edge, her fingers barely grazing the floor. Her dark hair has been pushed carefully to the side, and I can see her pale face through a few of the wayward strands. I know that the girl is Rose, but I hardly recognize her. Her eyes are closed and her lips are parted, I never thought I would see her look so weak…so vulnerable.

Her jumpsuit has been pulled down to the waist, leaving her back and arms completely bare, save for the strips of cloth that bind the wound on her shoulder. I take a step closer so that I can get a better look. I try not to grimace as I inspect the injury. I can practically feel Dimitri vibrating with worry behind me.

"I applied pressure and kept it as clean as I could," I hear him say as he comes to stand behind me. I can practically feel him breathing down my neck.

"Dimitri," I say, turning to meet his gaze levelly. "You have to leave. I can't work with you hovering over my shoulder like this."

His response is immediate, "No. I promised her that I would take care of her."

"You have," I say softly.

"I can't just leave her."

I realize that arguing with Dimitri will only waste time, time that I'm not sure Rose has. "Fine, but I'm going to need a few things from the Resource Distribution Center. My keys are in my coat, it's on the hook by the door."

"Tell me," his face is grave. "I'll bring you whatever we need."

My eyes flicker to where Rose lies, still unconscious. "Alcohol, hydrogen peroxide – anything that will help to sterilize the wound. I'll also need a syringe, saltwater, and bandages." Dimitri nods after every word, committing my instructions to memory. "You're going to have to find a needle and thread too," I say finally.

"Anything else?" he asks, even though he's already halfway out of the room.

"Pain killers, the strongest ones you can find."

Understanding flickers in his eyes and he leaves without another word.

"Vasilisa," Victor says, emerging from the shadows. I had almost forgotten he was in the room. "Do you remember what I taught you?"

Every NAAMA citizen is given first-aid training during primary school, I guess Executor Ozera doesn't see the harm in teaching us how to give CPR or how to clean out cuts and scrapes. Since biology is the study of life, she can't justify outlawing its teaching the way she can physics or engineering. Like all of my other school lessons though, Victor had taken it upon himself to elaborate on the subject. We'd discussed things like sutures and tourniquets, but it had always been theoretical. The closest I had ever come to stitching up an actual human being was the time I had tried to sew up the peels of a banana.

"I think so," I say, chewing on my bottom lip. "Sterilize the tools, irrigate the wound…"

"Not that," says Victor, cutting me off. "What did I tell you about placing your trust in the right people?"

I stare at him in stunned silence for a moment. "I don't see how that particular lesson applies to our current situation."

"You're not thinking, Vasilisa," he tells me exasperatedly. "Never stop thinking."

"I don't have time for this," I say, turning my attention back on Rose.

Victor comes around the other side of the table so that he can meet my gaze, our green eyes mirroring each other. "She did it," he says calmly. "She found the Havens…and Dimitri is safe now, we have everything that we need."

I stare back at him defiantly, "And now you want me to let her bleed out on this table?"

He hesitates, "Vasilisa…"

"I won't do it," I tell him coldly. "I won't let her die, not after everything that she's done for us."

Victor leans over the table, his gaze cool and calculating. "After everything that she's done for us?" His words echoing my own. "Her kind has done enough for us." His tone is acid.

I flinch at his reference to the role investigators had played in my life up until now. "I won't let you punish her for something she didn't do. I don't blame her and neither should you," I say, shaking my head.

"What happens next," he hisses. "What happens after you save her life, are you going to keep her for a pet? Do you honestly think that after all of this is over, we can live like one big happy family?"

I have known Victor all of my life, he is the only family that I have ever known, he is my blood. But the man standing across the table from me is not the same man who raised me. The Victor who tucked me in at night, the one who had spun me around, and wiped away tears has vanished. I don't know this man.

Maybe he's right, and I don't know what happens after this, but that doesn't mean Rose has to die for it.

The sound of footsteps silences Victor, and he steps away from the table, folding his hands behind his back. Dimitri passes through the curtains a moment later, clutching glass bottles and other supplies to his chest. He is panting, probably from having run all the way across the compound and back.

"I'll leave you to it then," says Victor. He steps backwards and disappears into the folds of the heavy black fabric.

Dimitri sets down his haul on one of the nearby tables and then turns to me. "The strongest painkiller I could find was aspirin."

That's not good. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for what will need to come next. "Find something for her to bite down."

Dimitri's eyes widen, "Why?"

"So she doesn't bite her tongue off when I start sewing her up," I tell him grimly

Dimitri moves without hesitation.

I begin sorting through the glass bottles. Dimitri has managed to gather most of what I needed. I find the rubbing alcohol and a sodium chloride solution. The syringe he brought me is actually a turkey baster, but it will suit my needs. He also had the foresight to bring an assortment of metal bowls. I fill one bowl with the alcohol and another with the saltwater.

I know that cleaning out Rose's injury is a critical step, and so I begin by removing the dressing. The strips of cloth Dimitri has used to bind the wound are soaked with blood, but I see that he did manage to keep it reasonably clean. I peel them away as gently as I can, but my hands start shaking when I pull away the last layer. I want to squeeze my eyes shut, but I force myself to remain calm.

_Be brave._

_Be brave for Rose._

The wound is about two inches in diameter and blood blooms out from around it. I fill my make-shift syringe with the saline solution and begin flushing out the blood and dirt. Rose stirs a little, but her eyes don't open. Now that the wound is free from blood and debris, I can see that it is deep. I can't tell whether the blade severed the tendon in her shoulder, and I have no way of knowing if Rose will ever regain full function in her arm.

_One step at a time._

Dimitri reemerges just then and he holds out a small strip of leather to me. "Will this work?

I nod, "Put it between her teeth," I say, as I turn to fill the syringe with the alcohol. He does as he's told and then turns to await further instruction. "You'll need to hold her down."

He hesitates and then places one hand on her uninjured shoulder, and another on the small of her back. "Like this?"

"Yes," I tell him, as I approach the table. "This is going to sting, she's going to try and fight back – you can't let her."

"I'm ready," he tells me, his voice determined.

I squeeze the alcohol into the cut and Rose's body jerks violently beneath me as soon as the liquid makes contact with her skin. Dimitri is strong, and he does his best to hold her in place. I can tell that seeing her like this is eating him up inside, he is almost as pale as she is. I continue to irrigate the wound until about half of my supply of alcohol remains, enough for me to begin sterilizing the needle.

I hear a soft whimper, and I turn to see that Rose has regained consciousness. She immediately tries to push herself up onto her elbows, her eyes darting around wildly. Dimitri is crouching in front of her in a flash.

"Shhh," he says soothingly. "It's okay, Roza, you're safe now." He pushes a lock of her dark brown hair behind her ear, and I suddenly feel like I am intruding on something private. "Lissa is here, she's going to fix you."

She tries to spit out the strip of leather in her mouth, but stops when Dimitri brings up a hand to cup her cheek, "No, you need to hold onto that."

"Dimitri," I say softly. "I can't wait much longer."

He nods, but doesn't take his eyes off of Rose. He takes her limp hand up in his own and brings it to his lips. "She's ready."

I thread the needle and then step up to the table. "Rose, this is going to hurt, but I need you to stay as still as possible."

Her eyes flicker to me, and I can see the understanding behind them.

Sewing up skin is not like sewing up the peel of a banana. For one thing, the banana does not writhe beneath you, it doesn't scream through gritted teeth, or fight through tears to remain conscious. Rose did all of these things and each stitch felt like a lifetime. Dimitri never let go of her hand though and he managed to keep her calm despite everything.

"Okay," I whisper, stepping away from the table, the needle shaking between my fingers. "I just need to wrap it up."

Rose mumbles something and then spits out the leather. "Nice work, doc."

Relief washes over Dimitri's features at the sound of her voice, and I can't help but smile.

"You're not out of the woods yet," I say as I gather up the bandages. "We still have to worry about infection, and you're going to need a lot of rest."

She exhales slowly before speaking, "Thank you." Her eyes lock with Dimitri's, "Both of you…I don't know you managed to get me here, but…" Their hands are still laced together.

"How _did_ you get her here?" I ask, realizing that I still had no idea what sort of ordeal either of them had been through. "You mentioned something about a train." I start wrapping up Rose's shoulder as I watch Dimitri.

"Yes," Dimitri says as he pulls a chair up to sit in front of Rose. "We were on a train for a little while, but I knew we couldn't stay. I managed to sneak us off the train at the first stop, and then I borrowed a jeep, and…"

"You stole a car?" Rose's voice is tinged with disbelief.

"Borrowed," says Dimitri, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into a small smile. "I abandoned it a few miles from here."

Rose's eyes widen, "Miles?" She tries to sit up again, but stops when she realizes she can hardly move her left arm.

"Rose," I say urgently. "Lie back down, you'll tear the stitches."

She trembles as she speaks, "I can't move it, I can't…"

"You just need to rest," I tell her reassuringly. "I should also probably find you a shirt." I don't think she had realized that she was dressed only from the waist down.

Rose's cheeks blush a brilliant shade of crimson. "Thanks," she mumbles.

An awkward silence fills the room. "I'll be right back," I say, and leave before either of them can respond.

…

I find Victor waiting for me in my bedroom. He sits perched on the edge of my bed, a small book in his hand, and a candle burning on my bedside table. He doesn't look up at me when I enter the room.

"How is she?" he asks, casually turning over a page in his book.

I ignore him and head straight for my closet.

I hear the sounds of him closing the book, "You can't ignore me, Vasilisa."

I continue rifling through my closet, wordlessly searching for something with buttons down the front.

"She can't leave the unit," he tells me knowingly. "It won't be long before the RPD discovers what she's done; there will be a price on her head soon."

I freeze.

"The same goes for Dimitri; they're fugitives, both of them."

I whirl around, a white button down shirt clenched in my fist. "Why are you telling me this? I thought you said Dimitri could make his own choices? I thought you wanted Rose dead?" My tone his laced with venom.

Victor rises slowly from the bed. "It doesn't matter what I want. It has become clear to me that you are more than capable of making your decisions. I just hope you will remember my lessons, and that you will tread carefully."

All I can do is glare at him.

"You probably think I'm some kind of monster," he says quietly, "but the only thing I am guilty of, is keeping you safe, and if that makes me a monster, then so be it."

He leaves me in stunned silence. I force Victor's words to the back of my mind; I need to focus on Rose. I gather up my bedding and the lantern, and blow out the candle before closing the door behind me.

…

I find Rose and Dimitri have not moved since I left them, but I still make sure to announce my presence before I walk in.

"I'll wait outside," says Dimitri, rising from his chair. He casts Rose a fleeting glance over his shoulder before disappearing behind the curtains.

I do my best to help Rose put on the shirt, she is able to sit up on the table, her legs dangling over the sides. I see her struggling button up the shirt with only one hand.

"Here," I say. "Let me help you."

She hesitates and then let's out a sigh, "Fine."

I can tell she is not used to letting people help her with anything, let alone something as seemingly simple as getting dressed.

"What is all of that for?" asks Rose, nodding at the pile of pillows and blankets.

"Well," I start slowly. "Dimitri?" I call, realizing that what I have to say affects him too. "You can come back."

He pulls back the curtain almost immediately and steps back into the ring of light. "What's wrong?" He moves so that he can stand beside Rose protectively.

"Victor says it's not safe for either of you to leave the unit," I blurt out. "He says that you're both wanted fugitives now and that…"

"No way," says Rose, doing her best to stagger to her feet. "I can't stay here. I did what Victor asked; I found the havens, I…" She freezes mid-sentence, and then begins frantically searching through the pockets of her jumpsuit as best she can with only one working arm. "Where is it?" she asks, turning to Dimitri.

"Rose, what are you talking about?" he asks bewildered.

"There was a sheet of paper in my pocket," she says, her face panic-stricken. "It's gone, I have to give it to Victor, I have to find my parents, please!"

Her knees knock together and she practically collapses against Dimitri's chest. He wraps one arm tentatively around her, and strokes her hair with the other, murmuring something to her in his native tongue.

"We can worry about that later," I say quickly, overcome once more with the feeling that I am intruding on some intimate moment. "You need time to recover. I brought what I could for now," I say gesturing to the bedding.

Rose nods her head against Dimitri's chest in acknowledgment.

"I'll talk to Victor," I tell her, trying to reassure her. "He can help you."

I hope that she can't sense the lie; the taste is bitter as the words pass my lips.

She tenses at the mention of Victor's name, then pulls away from Dimitri and takes a deep breath. "Fine, I'll stay here. For now," she adds with finality.

"Okay," I offer. "I'll come back with some food in the morning." I realize then that I will have to steal more supplies from the RDC.

Rose stares at me; she is almost as white as the shirt she is wearing. "Thank you."

I smile meekly at the two of them, hoping that neither of them can sense my unease. I make my way back into the unit, back to Victor – to a man I no longer trust, to a man who had tried to convince me to let Rose die.

_Don't thank me yet. _

**You guys are seriously the best, I love reading your responses and what you think will happen next, I seriously check my email like every five minutes after I update. Next up – some RxD action! You guys deserve it ;)**


	17. Chapter 17

_**Rose – **_

As soon as Vasilisa disappears behind the black drapes, I whirl on Dimitri. "The paper," I tell him. "It was in my pocket, did you take it out?"

Dimitri places his hands on my shoulder to steady me. "Rose, calm down, I didn't take anything out of your pocket."

"Then why is it gone?" I ask, shrugging out of his grasp. "They were all zipped up." I furiously zip and unzip one of my pockets for emphasis.

"I'm sorry," he tells me wearily. "I don't know what to tell you, everything happened so quickly."

My mind feels like it's being pulled in a million different directions. In one corner is the notion of that paper being the only shred of proof I have to offer Victor, and now it's gone. Without it, I have no way of securing Victor's help, no way of finding my parents. In another corner, I struggle to come to terms with what I learned about the Purge, about Victor and about the Dragomirs.

I sway slightly on my feet from the exertion and from the blood loss. I try to reach out and steady myself on the table, but my left arm only hangs limply by my side. Dimitri's arms are around me before I can even open my mouth to protest.

"Whatever is on the paper can wait," he tells me. "Right now you need to rest."

My body is screaming at me, telling me that he's right. I want to pull away from him but I'm so weak that I fear he is the only thing keeping me upright.

I nod compliantly. "Fine," I murmur.

I feel him lead me over to one of the chairs where he lowers me onto it. I pull my left arm into my lap and cradle it there. My shoulder throbs, and I can still feel pain lancing through me despite the fact that my arm is immobile. I try not to think about what my life will be like if I never regain full function of my arm.

_I should feel lucky just to be alive. _

Dimitri drags the table out of the ring of fabric, careful not to knock over any of the candles balanced precariously around the perimeter of the circle. The light cast by the little flames dances across the black of the curtains, and everything is immersed in a warm glow. He comes back and begins spreading out the pillows and blankets, forming a sort of nest.

He stands back to admire his handiwork and then glances over to where I sit, holding my arm to my chest.

"Rose," he says softly. "It's going to be okay, you'll heal – you just need time."

I don't look at him; I can feel the tears swimming in my eyes. It's strange that despite everything Dimitri has witnessed over the past few days – my battered knuckles, the guard at the facility, even practically bleeding to death, the thing I am most worried about him seeing are the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. I know I probably deserve to cry, I know he wouldn't blame me. He would probably even try to comfort me, but I fight the urge to cry anyways. I have already shown too much weakness.

He kneels down in front of me, "Does it hurt?"

I shake my head.

"You don't have to lie to me."

"I've had worse," I say, trying to keep my tone even.

"Now I wish you were lying," he says standing up to help me to my feet.

I collapse onto the pile of blankets, wincing as I try to find a position that won't aggravate my stitches. I finally settle for lying on my stomach. My lids are heavy and I close them almost instantaneously.

"I'll be right out here if you need me," I hear Dimitri say. I barely comprehend his words as I finally allow myself to succumb to the exhaustion.

…

I wake up to find that sometime during my slumber, I had rolled onto my back. My shoulder is on fire, and I move to try and alleviate the pain, grimacing as I do. Lying down is too cumbersome for me and so I force myself into a sitting position. The world spins around me, and it takes a moment for my vision to right itself. Most of the candles have burned out, but a few have managed to last through the night. It feels like twilight even though the glowing numbers on my watch tells me that it is late afternoon.

"Rose?" a lightly accented voice calls. "Are you awake?"

I glance down at my appearance, I'm wearing a white button down shirt and only the bottom half of my jumpsuit. My cheeks burn when I recall how I had been lying on the table, practically naked in front of Dimitri and Vasilisa. I try not to think about how I had gotten to such a state. "Yeah," I call back; my voice is strained and raspy.

Dimitri appears from behind the veil a moment later. He's face is creased with worry lines, and his hair is dull, hanging limply to his shoulders. He is no longer wearing the black military uniform he had had been wearing when we made our daring escape, instead he wears a pair of dark colored trousers and a white threadbare shirt. Despite his casual appearance, I can tell he is not relaxed.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, taking a step further into the ring.

I try to shrug, but I end up cringing from the jolt of pain radiating from my shoulder. "Never better," I say through clenched teeth.

"You know I can tell when you're lying, right?"

"I imagine you think you can tell a lot of things about me." I say under my breath.

_Selfish and cruel._

Dimitri saved my life, I ought to be falling at his feet, but instead I find myself fighting the urge to scream at him.

"Rose?" he asks, reasonably puzzled.

I ignore him and focus on getting to my feet. It takes me an embarrassing amount of time to do so, but I manage it in the end. I am able to better assess my body's limitations now that I'm standing. My left arm is stiff, but I am able to wiggle my fingers.

"You're improving quickly," he tells me, the ghost of a smile on his face.

"Not nearly quickly enough," I say, pinching the skin of my left arm, trying to illicit a response. "Is Vasilisa here?" She had told me last night that she would speak to Victor about helping me.

He shakes his head. "She's at work, she said she would be back later with dinner and clean bandages."

"Where is she getting all of that…never mind," I say, realizing the answer to my question before I've even finished speaking. "She's stealing from the RDC, isn't she?"

Dimitri hesitates, "It's the only way."

"It's not," I tell him defiantly. "I'm putting her at risk staying here."

"Is that really why you want to leave?" he asks me, a strange look on his face. "I didn't realize you were so concerned."

Dimitri's journal is still nestled in one of the pockets of my jumpsuit. I had almost forgotten about the words I had read – the ones he had written. When I close my eyes, I can see them, like they are burned onto the insides of my eyelids.

My good arm reaches down to pull open a zipper on my calf, and from the opening I withdraw the tiny bound book. "Maybe I'm not as cruel or as selfish as you think," I say, holding it out to him. I tremble, but I'm not so sure it's from the blood loss.

Dimitri stares at his journal like maybe he doesn't recognize it. I find myself wishing that that was the case, hoping that there had been some kind of mix up and that the words that echo across the expanses of my mind aren't his. "You read it," he says blankly, taking the journal from me.

"I did," I say, bowing my head in shame as I do.

"How much did you read?" he asks.

I fiddle with one of the buttons of my shirt, not wanting to make eye contact with him. "Enough," I say softly. "And I get it; I understand why you would think those things about me." I peer at him through my lashes and see that he is leafing through the pages.

"_Dear Roza,"_ he reads, his voice clear and rich_. "You promised me that you wouldn't read anything in this journal, but I am writing this with the hope that you won't feel obligated to keep that promise after I'm gone. I know you said that you would get me out of the facility safely, but I also know that the chances of that happening are slim – and that's okay,"_ he pauses and glances up at me.

I can hear the beating of my heart, the rush of blood in my ears, "Dimitri, what are you –"

"Just listen" he says gently. I clamp my jaw shut, and he continues to read. _"You asked me earlier tonight if I wanted to die, and I meant what I said – that of course I didn't want to, but that if I had to choose how I went, I would choose to die for the people I love. I would gladly sacrifice my life, and until a few days ago, I could have done so without any regret." _Dimitri takes a deep breath before continuing. _ "I know we come from different worlds, and I know that our time together has been brief, but that is not what I regret. I regret that I will never get the chance to know you, to really know you, and for you to maybe get to know yourself. You are so many things – brave, strong, fierce, but I think you already know that. What you haven't realized is your passion, your loyalty, and your kindness. You are good, Roza, I've seen it and I know that one day, you will too."_

My entire body goes still. The flickering candles melt into the shadows, everything fades in such a way that the entire room could be burning around me and I wouldn't notice. "You wrote that?" My voice is barely a whisper.

"I wasn't sure what was going to happen, and I wanted to say goodbye, but I was worried I wouldn't get the chance."

"You obviously didn't have a lot of faith in my abilities to get you out," I say, with a small, choked laugh. I don't know what else I can say. No one has ever believed in me the way Dimitri has, no one has ever called me kind; no one has ever had any regrets where I was concerned.

I raise my head so that I can meet his gaze. I search his eyes, ever the windows to soul, searching for any sign of remorse, any sign that he hadn't meant what he'd said, but there is nothing but truth and warmth hiding beneath the depths. The hard lines of his face have softened, and the corners of his perfect mouth are pulled up in a smile that I know he has reserved only for me. All the pain that I had been feeling until now, all of the worry and the fear has ceased to exist. In this moment, there is only Dimitri and there is only me, time is standing still for us.

He takes a step toward me, "You saved us."

My heart leaps into my throat, but I do my best to force it back down. "That wasn't me" I say shaking my head. "We're alive because of you." I try to gesture to my bandaged shoulder as proof of my words.

He takes another step toward me, closing the distance between us. He is only a few inches away from me, and he reaches out one hand to stroke my cheek. I close my eyes and press myself against his palm, relishing in the way his skin feels against mine. This one, tiny gesture is enough to set my skin on fire.

"We saved each other," he says, his voice curling around me like a caress. I open my eyes to stare up into his. I slip my good arm around his waist, pulling myself closer to him. His eyes widen a little in surprise but he doesn't pull away.

His hand slides down my cheek and snakes around to rest on the nape of my neck, his thumb lightly grazing my jawline. I need to find a way to be closer to him, and so I raise myself up onto the tips of my toes. As if sensing my purpose, Dimitri lowers his mouth closer to mine. Our lips brush ever so slightly, but as they do I feel myself melt against him. A dull aching, need spreads throughout my body and I kiss him more urgently. I run my hand over his thickly muscled arms, and he holds me more tightly, but I can tell that he is holding back.

I pull apart, gasping for breath. "Is something wrong? Did I hurt you?"

I shake my head, unable to form a coherent sentence at first. "It's okay. You can't hurt me," I say, my voice thick and heavy. I bring my working arm up in-between us and begin to pull at the buttons of my shirt.

"Roza," he says softly, his hand grabbing mine, halting the process. "You don't have to –" but his words fall away when my white shirt does. Whatever words he had been about to speak never made it past his lips. He just looks at me, like I am his salvation.

He kisses me again. It's the kind of kiss that makes you forget, that makes the world slip away, the kind that leaves you gasping and aching for more when it's over. One of his arms wraps around my waist, lifting me off of the ground, and then lowering me onto it. He lays me onto the pile of bedding, pausing only to gaze down at me, his pupils dilated and his lips swollen.

"Are you sure?" he asks me.

There are a lot of things in my life I am unsure of. I am not sure how to tell Vasilisa that the man who raised her is the same man who murdered her parents; I am not sure how to evade the RPD, I am not sure if my parents are alive. But I can say with one hundred percent certainty that I want to be with Dimitri, in the most innocent sense of the phrase, and in the most intimate way possible. I have never shared this part of myself with anyone before, despite the reputation that most soldiers have.

"Yes," I tell him, my voice trembling despite my resolve.

His eyes darken with desire and he positions himself so that he is on top of me, but takes special care to avoid my injured shoulder. Our lips are just about to meet in another kiss when I hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Dimitri tenses and immediately rolls off of me as I struggle to sit up and cover myself. I just barely manage to pull a blanket over my bare chest as Victor yanks open the black curtain.

**Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, I love writing this story and I love being able to share it with you all. I also wanted to take the time to answer a few questions. TheTruthAboutTheWallFlower asked me about Christian – he is definitely involved with this story but his character might not show up until later. I have big things planned for his and Lissa's story line. Also yes, there will be a sequel – this will probably end up being trilogy. Other characters like Tasha and Eddie will also be making appearances a little later on. **


	18. Chapter 18

_**Vasilisa – **_

I return to my bedroom, clutching the new lantern to my chest. Relief washes over me when I see that it is empty; I don't think I have it in me to confront Victor. I sit down on my bed, which has been stripped bare, but I'm too tired to care. I cling to the lantern; as if the light radiating from it is the only thing keep me anchored to this world. I need something to hold on to, something to remind me what's real.

Victor's harsh words, his darker persona, and cold calculations…are those real? Have I been imagining the man who has cared for me for the past 14 years?

Dimitri's concern for Rose, his urgency, his need to take care of her…is that real too? Has the man, who's always been in control of his emotions, who's always hidden behind his walls, allowed himself to fall in love?

I don't have the answers to my questions, and when I look down at the bloody fingers that encircle the lantern, I realize that it doesn't have them either. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, allowing it to fill up the hollows of my chest, and then I let it out slowly.

I think about how I associate tiny details with people. When I think of Victor, I think of his intelligence. When I think of Dimitri, I picture the look on his face when he is trying to remain impassive. And I can't help but think of the fire that burns in Rose's eyes or the way strength seems to radiate out of her very being when I try to picture her. I realize now that thinking about the people in my life in this fashion isn't fair to them. I have mistaken the details for the whole. Maybe I don't know what's real because I've never looked hard enough.

I open my eyes, and it takes them a moment to adjust to the light. I stretch out on the bed, allowing the lantern to roll to my side, nestling itself in the crook of my arm. I do my best to force the events of tonight to the back of my mind, but when I close my eyes, I see flashes of dark blood and pale skin, I hear Dimitri begging me to come downstairs, and Victor asking me to let Rose die.

_100…99…98…_

I whisper the numbers to myself, finding comfort in my old habit.

_97…96…95…_

My words synchronize in time with my heartbeat. The rhythm is soothing, and soon I drift off into sleep.

…

I awake abruptly to the sound of the bell tolling in the square and sit bolt upright in my bed. I don't recall falling asleep, but when I finally had, it had been a deep, dreamless sleep. I feel lighter some how, more refreshed than I have in days. I swing my legs around and take a beat, allowing myself to just sit on the edge of my bed and bask in the warm light that streams through my window. I don't want to leave the confines of my warm sanctuary, but I can feel the weight of my problems beginning to press down on me; I can't avoid Victor forever. Little tendrils of anxiety begin to invade my mind, seeping into the folds. I don't know what to do. Victor has always been kind; he has always wanted to help those that he could, and he is the only parent I have ever known.

The Victor from last night, the one who plots, the one who makes threats, is not that same man.

_Victor isn't going to hurt you…he loves you. _

And I love him. I owe it to him to at least speak with him, to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he knows something that I don't; maybe he has his reasons for behaving the way that he has.

_You probably think I'm some kind of monster, but the only thing I am guilty of, is keeping you safe, and if that makes me a monster, then so be it._

I still don't understand his words. Keep me safe from what? What is so important that he would threaten Rose? The more I replay them, the more desperately I try to come up with an explanation. Today, Victor is going to give me one.

I take a deep breath and gather my resolve. I run through the events of the past week in my mind, cataloguing every instance where Victor had displayed hostility or a blatant disregard for the safety of others, arming myself with these little facts.

I take an icy shower and then dress quickly in a dark grey dress and black woolen tights. I let the strands of my pale blonde hair hang loose and wet around my shoulders. I run my fingers through it, doing my best to untangle it.

_Quit stalling, _I snap at myself.

I find myself hoping that Victor has already left for work as I make my way down the stairs, but the sounds coming from the kitchen tell me that I will not be able to put this conversation off any longer. I pause on the last step, bracing myself, and then stride into the kitchen with my head held high.

Victor is seated at the kitchen table, a bowl of half-eaten oatmeal sitting in front of him. He does not bother to raise his head to look at me until I am seated in front of him. I clear my throat, and one side of his mouth quirks upwards in amusement.

"Uncle," I start off, doing my best to sound indifferent. "I need to speak with you."

He takes a bite of the oatmeal, but never takes his cold green eyes off of me. He takes forever to swallow down the food. "What about?" he finally asks.

"I want to know what you have planned," I tell him firmly, keeping my body as still as possible.

"Planned?" he asks, raising one eyebrow. "You'll have to be more specific. I plan on doing many things, like finishing my breakfast for example."

I purse my lips, hoping that my face betrays none of the annoyance I feel. "You know what I mean. You're planning something, and it involves me. You've also made it clear that you _don't_ want to involve Rose."

Victor's eyes narrow at the mention of Rose's name. "You've developed feelings for her, haven't you?"

I'm taken slightly aback by his accusation. "Feelings?" I splutter.

"Not romantic ones," he clarifies. "But you care about what happens to her." He is no longer asking me a question.

I hesitate before answering. I do care about what happens to Rose, but it's still not something I'm willing to admit to anyone. "Just because I didn't let another human being bleed out on a table doesn't mean I have feelings for them. Any person with a conscience would have done what I did."

"But you're not just any person." His tone is surprisingly gentle, and his features have softened. "You're special."

"You mentioned that," I say witheringly. "I don't suppose you're going to elaborate beyond telling me that I'm _special_? Every kid is special if you ask their parents."

His expression hardens once more. "Rose found the Havens," he tells me, completely ignoring my request. "They're real."

"What do the Havens have to do with me being special?" I ask, straining to keep myself from shouting.

"Everything," he says. "The Havens aren't some magical fairy land where everyone has running water and working light bulbs. It's a place filled with people like you and me."

"That doesn't answer my question," I snap.

"The people residing in the Havens have the power to change NAAMA, to restore this country to its former glory, they –"

"Well what are they waiting for?" I ask, cutting him off. "If they're so intelligent and capable and if what you're saying is true, why did I just take a three minute shower? Why don't we have electricity or heat or any of the modern comforts that citizens were afforded before the Pulse?"

"They're waiting for you," he tells me.

I start laughing, I can't help it. "Let me get this straight," I say, once I've gotten my feelings back under control. "A group of rebels is out there in the world somewhere, capable of overthrowing the government, but they're waiting on a seventeen year-old girl?"

Victor fixes me with his stony gaze. "They're waiting on a catalyst, something that will motivate them to act." Something about his tone tells me that he believes in what he's saying whole-heartedly. It sucks the amusement out of me like a vacuum.

"Why does it have to be me?" I ask. "How do you know that I can do all of those things?"

"Because I've been training you for it," he tells me bluntly. "When you were a little girl, I began to notice the way you soaked up information, you were always watching, always listening. It became clear to both your parents, and myself, that you were gifted. I urged your parents to nurture your talents, but they were afraid for you; afraid that it would put you in danger."

I bite down on my lip, considering all that Victor is saying.

"They were compassionate people, your parents, that's where you get it from. But compassion and kindness were the only lessons they sought to pass on to you. After they died, I took it upon myself to teach you. I taught you everything that I could, and I made you into a leader."

I am speechless.

"I have been biding my time, waiting for the opportunity to present itself – I knew a time would come when we would be able to escape this place, that we would find our equals and together, work to bring down Ozera and her dark ages policies," he continues, ignoring the stunned look on my face. "I just never thought that the opportunity would present itself in the form of Rose Hathaway."

I blink back my surprise and force myself to speak. "That didn't stop you from using her."

"I had to adapt," he says, shrugging his shoulders casually.

"You took advantage of her," I say, my tone accusatory. "Did you even know her parents, or was that just some ploy to get her to do what you needed?"

"I knew them," he says, his face devoid of emotion. "And I have every intention of telling Rose what she wants to know."

"Now you do," I say bitterly. "Now that she isn't going to die, you have to tell her."

"I don't have to do anything." He pauses and then withdraws a crumpled sheet of paper from the pocket of his coat. "We have everything that we need right here."

My eyes widen in recognition, Rose had been frantically searching for a piece of paper last night. "You stole that from Rose," I tell him in an acid tone.

"I stumbled across it while assessing her injuries," he says casually, but the hard glint in his eyes is unnerving. "But a deal is a deal, and I will uphold my end of the bargain."

I had hoped that this conversation would be reassuring, that my relationship with Victor would return to what it had been before all of this, but I still don't recognize the man sitting in front of me. "I guess it just would have been more convenient then, to just let her die."

"Vasilisa," he says, letting out a sigh. "I regret what I said to you last night, truly I do. I let my emotions get the best of me. I just can't help but think of the investigators who murdered your parents when I look at her."

I try not cringe at the mention of my parents. "She's different." I say in a small voice. "We can trust her."

"Yes," he muses. "As I mentioned last night, it has become clear to me that you are capable of making your own decisions. I only ask that you –"

"Remember your lessons," I say, finishing his sentence for him.

He nods his head knowingly. "It's late," he says, rising from the table. "We should both be off, the day awaits us."

I follow him to the door and watch as he closes it shut behind him. I begin sifting through the contents of my mind, replaying what Victor had revealed to me. He wants to leave the compound, to find a way to the Havens so that we can join up with the rebels there. Victor wants to stage a revolution, and he wants me to spearhead it. He has been molding me like clay for most of my life, into a person he thinks is capable of leading. The thought are making me dizzy and I lean my back against the door for support.

_He's crazy, _I tell myself.

_I'm not the girl he thinks I am. _

The sound of a bell startles me, pulling me from my reverie. I had hoped that I would be able to check on Rose before work, but I am already going to be late enough as it is. I grab my coat and scarf off of the hooks that line the paneled walls of the entryway, and pull them on as I dart down the passageway. I burst into the abandoned unit to find Dimitri pacing the floor. It's clear from the dark shadows under his eyes that he hadn't slept much the night before.

He opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. "I don't have a lot of time; I'll be back as soon as I can to check on Rose."

He nods his understanding.

"I'll bring some clean bandages and food when I can. In the mean time, just do what you can to keep her comfortable."

"Okay," he says his voice thick with exhaustion. "Anything else?"

I shake my head. "Just stay out of sight."

…

As expected, there is a line waiting for me outside of the RDC. I mutter a few apologies as I walk by them, but keep my eyes trained on the ground. I fill orders for everything from cans of beans, to paper, to thread. The hours pass quickly, and I realize that since I am the only person working at the RDC now, I have no way of slipping away unnoticed to grab the extra supplies I need for Rose and Dimitri. The solution to my problem eventually presents itself in the form of Mia Rinaldi.

"Hey, Lissa," she says, her childlike features set in a grim line. "How are you?"

"Fine," I say quickly.

"I heard about what happened to Dimitri, I'm sorry."

"Me too," I say, trying to sound like Dimitri isn't actually hiding about 300 yards away from us.

"If there's anything I can do, let me know." She offers up a smile with her words.

"Actually," I say. "There is something." I begin scrawling out requests onto my notepad, and then tear them out, handing them to her. "I need you to take this to the warehouse, get everything on it and then leave the supplies in my unit."

She takes the requests and then glances down at them. "Lissa," she says hesitantly. "What's going on? Why do you need so much food?"

"Victor is getting worse," I tell her. "We need to stock up. Please, Mia," I say pleadingly. "Do this for me."

"Alright," she says, shoving the requests into the pocket of her coat. "I'll leave them in the kitchen."

"Thank you," I tell her.

"Any time, but could I also get a request for three bars of soap?"

"Right," I say, remembering that Mia hadn't actually come here to help me steal from the government.

…

The rest of the day passes quickly, and for once I am grateful for the distraction my work has provided. I lock up the RDC and make my way toward the housing units, keeping my coat and scarf wrapped tightly around myself. The cold Montana airs bites at my exposed skin, and I long for the warmth of my bed. I know that sleep is a long way off though, and I begin forming a to-do list in my mind as I return my coat and scarf to their resting places in the hallway of my unit.

_Check on Rose, _

_Make dinner, _

_Find extra blankets…_

"Lissa," a voice from the kitchen calls, causing me to jump in surprise.

"Sorry," says Dimitri, "I didn't mean to startle you. He walks into the entryway, but is careful to avoid the windows.

"What are you doing out here?" I hiss. "It's not safe."

"Victor wanted to talk to Rose…alone," he adds.

My blood runs cold. "Alone?" I whisper.

Dimitri furrows his brow in confusion. "What's wrong?"

I begin pushing past him, making my way toward the hidden door by the staircase, but a hand around my wrist stops me.

"Lissa," says Dimitri. "What's going on? Why do you look so scared?" His dark eyes are wide with concern.

_Because Victor doesn't trust Rose._

_Because Victor wants her dead._

_Because she shouldn't be alone with him._

"I'm not scared," I say, pulling my arm out of his grasp. I turn away before he can continue his interrogation of me.

The sound of voices drifts down the passageway, but I can't decipher any of them until I get closer. The unit appears to be empty, but I can hear Victor and Rose through the draped fabric that hangs in a circle in the middle of the room. Dimitri creeps up behind me, and I turn to place one finger over my lips, signaling for him to stay quiet.

"You promised," says Rose, her voice is desperate.

"I did promise you," says Victor, sounding as if he were talking to a wounded animal. "I'll tell you where you can find your parents, but you'll have to do one last thing for me…"

"I'll do it," says Rose, sounding more compliant than I had ever imagined she could be. "I'll do whatever you want."

Victor doesn't respond immediately, and I can picture him studying her, gauging her resolve.

"Leave."

**What do you guys think of Victor's plan for Lissa? Do you think Rose will leave if Victor tells her where her parents are? Leave me a review and let me know what you think! Your thoughts and predictions are my favorite part about writing this story. **


	19. Chapter 19

_**Rose – **_

Victor clears his throat. "Ah, to be young and in love, seems like it was only last week that the two of you were at each other's throats." He pauses. "Oh wait, that's because you were." He doesn't avert his eyes, and I try not to shrink beneath the blankets under his gaze.

Dimitri scrambles to his feet, his cheeks are flushed and his clothing is rumpled. "Victor," he starts. "We were just…"

Victor holds up a hand to silence him. "What you and Miss Hathaway do behind closed…curtains, is no concern of mine," he says, waving Dimitri off. "Although, I must say that I expected this sort of behavior from _her kind_." The way he says the words _her_ _kind_ makes my blood boil. "But I thought you knew better than to get involved with a soldier."

Victor's words hit Dimitri like a slap in the face, and I can see him visibly recoil. Dimitri's eyes flick to where I sit, still clutching the sheet to my chest like a shield. The look on his face is a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. For a moment, I'm scared that he regrets what almost happened, but his features soften almost immediately. His eyes dart around the room and he eventually finds the shirt I had been wearing earlier and he bends down to pick it up. I have lost count of the number of times I have been topless in front of these people. Dimitri holds out the shirt to me and I reach out with my good arm to retrieve it.

The adrenaline that had surged within me during my brief tryst with Dimitri has dulled and now it moves through my veins sluggishly. I am no longer distracted by the feel of Dimitri's hands on my body and the pain from shoulder ripples through me like a current, threatening to pull me under. I ball the shirt up in my fist and stare at the two men standing in front of me.

"Is there something I can help you with?" I ask Victor. He had interrupted Dimitri and me, and hadn't given any explanation as to why.

"I was hoping that you and I could talk," he tells me casually, "Now that you're feeling better." He raises his eyebrows, as if daring me to contradict him.

I glare at him. "Fine," I say coolly, "But first I would like to get dressed."

"By all means," says Victor as he disappears back behind the heavy curtain.

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

"I can leave too," says Dimitri quickly, turning his body slightly so that his back is to me.

"No," I tell him, staring daggers at the shirt. "I can't put this stupid thing on by myself." I feel so useless, but the throbbing pain radiating from my back is enough to make me ask for help.

Dimitri hesitates at first, but then he turns around and drops to his knees to kneel beside me. "I'm sorry," he says, taking the shirt from me.

He holds out one of the sleeves for me and I slip my good arm through it. "For what?" I ask tentatively. My heart starts to race.

_Sorry you kissed me?_

"For not realizing that you needed help." He pulls the shirt across my bare shoulders and I use my good arm to maneuver my damaged one through the sleeve.

"Oh," I say after a moment. "I thought…that maybe," my cheeks are burning. "Never mind."

I have always been so sure of myself, but something about Dimitri makes me act like a bumbling schoolgirl. I should be worried about Victor, who I am trying to pretend isn't standing ten feet away from us, but instead I'm trying to figure out if this boy likes me.

He positions himself in front of me and begins buttoning my shirt, starting at the top. His hands are steady, and he keeps his eyes locked on mine. "You thought I was sorry about this?" He kisses me gently, warmth and reassurance pours into me through that kiss. I want to let the world fall away, to lose myself in him the way that I had before.

It's over too soon.

"I am sorry about that," he says pulling away. My heart sinks. "Sorry that we have to stop." The corners of his mouth pull up into a smile.

He is staring at me, and I can see the desire in his eyes, but there is none of the insatiable hunger that Jesse had regarded me with. Dimitri wants me, but he understands that he doesn't get to pick and choose the parts of me that he wants. I'm not _just_ a girl; I'm not _just _heavy breathing in the dark and the friction of hips. He is the first person who has seen the whole picture and still thought it was beautiful.

My breath hitches at his words. "Me too," I whisper to myself.

Dimitri rises to his feet and then bends down to help me do the same. "Are you okay?" he asks, his hands planted firmly on my waist to steady me.

I nod. "I'm fine," I tell him, even though I'm trembling slightly.

Victor clears his throat from behind the curtains and the sound makes me cringe. "Are you decent?" he calls.

I close my eyes and bite down on my lip so that I don't snap at him. "Yes," is all I can manage to say.

Victor pulls back the curtain and steps into the ring of burnt out candles and flannel sheets. "Dimitri," he says clasping his hands in front of him. "Would you mind giving Miss Hathaway and me some privacy? We have a great deal to discuss, and some of it is…sensitive information."

Dimitri looks from Victor to me, and then asks "Is that what you want?"

_No._

"Yes," I say quickly. "Just give us a few minutes."

He falters for a moment, but then he pulls his hands away from my waist and walks toward Victor, who is holding the drapes open for him. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything," he says, before disappearing behind the black.

Victor turns his gaze on me expectantly. "Why don't you have a seat," he says, motioning toward one of the many wooden chairs.

"I think I'll stand, thanks," I say, trying to mimic his condescendingly polite tone.

He shrugs. "Suit yourself, but I do think that I will sit." He lowers himself onto a chair, grimacing as he does.

His struggle reminds me that even though Victor is brilliant and devious, he is also a sick old man. I decide to ignore that fact, thinking of Victor as anything other than the man who murdered Vasilisa's parents will distract me. Now is not the time to feel pity or to show compassion, now is the time to be cold and calculating.

"So," says Victor, folding his hands thoughtfully on his lap. "I take it that despite your injury, you were successful?"

I ponder the implication of his words. He knows that I wouldn't have tried to escape the holding facility without first achieving my objective.

_You don't have any proof, the paper is gone._

_You have no leverage._

"I was," I tell him.

He raises one eyebrow at me, "And?"

"And before I tell you anything, I'll need you to uphold your end of the bargain." I try to place my hands on my hips defiantly, but my left arm just continues to hang limply at my side.

"I won't utter a single word about your parents until you've given me what I've asked for." Victor speaks calmly, too calmly.

I am sick of Victor's games, sick of the lies and the manipulation.

My eyes narrow. "You're joking right? I broke into a heavily-guarded facility, stole sensitive information from the military, busted out a prisoner, was _stabbed_, and you think you can threaten me?" I take a step toward him. "I might be missing several pints of blood and have thirty-two stitches in my shoulder, but I can still find a way to make you talk."

He smiles at me, but it's a cold smile that doesn't make it to his eyes. "You wouldn't dare. Vasilisa would never forgive you if you harmed me."

My expression darkens, "I'm glad you've brought up the subject of _things Vasilisa is willing to forgive_."

The smile vanishes from his face. "And what do you mean by that?"

I take another step toward him. "I know what happened to Vasilisa's parents."

"They were murdered," he says bluntly. "By investigators."

I ignore his comment. "We both know that's not the whole story."

"Then enlighten me, Rosemarie," he says exasperatedly, as if he were trying to coax information out of a child.

"You reported them to the Risk Prevention Department," I say venomously. "They're dead because of you."

A suffocating silence hangs between us. I had hoped that saying what I had learned out loud would ease the weight of carrying that secret around with me, but the words make me feel sick.

"She'll never believe you," he says tauntingly, not bothering to deny my accusation. "She hardly knows you; she's spent her entire life hating your kind, while simultaneously loving me."

"I'll make her believe," I say, my voice rising.

"How?" asks Victor incredulously. "What proof do you have?"

I don't speak.

He smirks, "That's what I thought, and besides, why would I do such a thing? What would I have to gain by murdering my poor, innocent niece's parents…my _brother_ and his wife? Why, it's unfathomable."

I clench my fists, both of them to my surprise. I had never stopped to wonder why Victor had done what he had.

_Why?_

_Why would he kill them?_

"I don't know why you did it," I snap. "But that doesn't change what happened. You took Vasilisa away from her parents; you made sure that she would _never_ know them." My vision blurs and I realize that it's because my eyes are brimming with unshed tears.

Victor stares at me appraisingly. "I get it now," he says softly.

I grit my teeth, willing myself not to cry. "Get what?"

"Your sudden obsession with Vasilisa," he says. "You want to see your own struggle mirrored in another human being. You've been alone all of your life, desperately searching for someone to understand you, and you think that that person is Vasilisa."

I freeze, I can hear my heart beating in my chest, and I'm sure Victor can too. I had never thought about it that way.

"You never knew your parents either," he continues. "But I knew them. Your mother was an engineer; living in Chicago with her…what shall I call him…her lover, Ibrahim. I was visiting the University of Chicago for some kind of convention, giving a lecture on something or another, and she was presenting her research."

I can feel my knees buckling under the weight of what Victor is telling me. I collapse onto one of the chairs before they can give out.

"I remember," he says, chuckling softly to himself. "Because even though she was eight months pregnant, she was terrifying. She commanded the room's attention with a fierce efficiency, no one dared to speak during her presentation. Then Ibrahim would fuss over her, bring her water, tell her to take a break, and she would always tell him to make himself useful elsewhere." He is smiling, but there is a vacant expression on Victor's face, and I know that he is somewhere else. "She would always smile at him though; when he wasn't looking…she loved him"

I don't bother to fight back the tears any more, it's not worth it. They flow freely, carving little paths down my cheeks as they do.

_She loved him_

_My parents had loved each other, and had taken care of each other. _

"The University held a banquet at the end of the week for all of the attendees…that was the first time I actually spoke with them. Ibrahim would speak to your mother's belly in Turkish, and she would roll her eyes at him…Did you know that? That he was Turkish?" He doesn't wait for my response. "Anyway, she told me all about her research…very intriguing stuff, but she said that she was going to put it aside after the baby was born. She and Ibrahim wanted to leave the city so that they could raise their baby; she already had the nursery colors picked out…"

"Shut up!" I'm on my feet and I'm red-faced and screaming. "Shut up! I don't want to hear any more!"

Victor stands up from his chair, "But it's what you asked for, you wanted to know about them."

"I want to know what happened to them! I want to know if they're still alive." I want to sound threatening, but my voice is pleading and desperate.

"I know what you want," he says, a wicked look crossing his aged features. "But I swear to you, Rosemarie, that if you breathe a word of what we've discussed here tonight, you will never find your parents."

I can feel my heart breaking in my chest – he wants me to choose between Vasilisa and my parents. The pain is unbearable; it's more agonizing than any physical wound I could ever sustain.

"It's really quite simple," he says, his voice thick with contempt. "Keep your mouth shut and I promise that I will help to reunite you with your parents. You won't be alone anymore; you'll finally have a family, someone who loves you."

_I could have a family. _

_I could be happy. _

My breathing is ragged, "Okay," I whisper. "I'll do it, now please, just tell me where they are."

He wags a finger at me, "Not so fast."

"You promised," I choke out.

"I did promise you," says Victor. "I'll tell you where you can find your parents, but you'll have to do one last thing for me…"

I don't hesitate, I've been through too much, given up too much, to stop now. "I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want."

Victor's face is triumphant, and there is a twinkle in his green eyes. "Leave," he says flatly.

"No!" a tiny, blonde figure bursts through the curtains. "Rose isn't leaving."

It's Vasilisa, and she is suddenly standing in the center of the room, her fists clenched at her sides. Her chest rises and falls rapidly and there is a fierce protectiveness glinting in her narrowed eyes. Dimitri is close behind her, and both of them move to stand in front of me, blocking me from Victor's view.

"Lissa," says Victor in a soothing tone. "I don't know what you think you've heard but – "

"I've heard enough," says Lissa through clenched teeth.

"Please," says Victor. "Just let me explain."

"No," spits Lissa. "I've had enough of this! You promised Rose that you would tell her where her parents are, she found the Havens – now tell her the truth!"

Lissa is vibrating with rage; I've never seen someone so seemingly delicate look the way that she does.

"I was just in the middle of telling Rosemarie –"

"No…you weren't." Lissa's tone is acid. "You were in the middle of blackmailing her to leave. You stole the Havens proof from her; you knew that if she thought she had no bargaining power, you could trick her into thinking leaving the compound was the only way to find her parents."

_Of course…Victor had been playing me the whole time._

I shoulder past Vasilisa and Dimitri, ready to throw myself at Victor, but a hand on my uninjured shoulder pulls me back. "You did what?" I growl.

"This has all been one big misunderstanding," starts Victor, raising his hands defensively. "Please, Vasilisa, think about what you're doing."

"I am thinking," she says coldly_. "Never stop thinking."_

"Vasilisa…" says Victor, looking crestfallen.

"Get out," she hisses.

Victor doesn't flinch.

"Leave," she says louder.

Victor hesitates, but then turns his back on us and makes his way out of the room.

She whirls on Dimitri and me, "We're leaving too."

**I can't even begin to tell you guys how happy your reviews make me. To know that some of you are invested to the point where you make predictions and talk about this world that I've created, it's unreal. Thank you so, so much! I just wanted to make sure that nothing in the story so far has been confusing? I have all of these little details in my head, and sometimes when I write, I just assume that everyone knows what I know. Never hesitate to ask questions, I love talking to you guys. I have no other friends! Ha…ha…okay I'm done. **


	20. Chapter 20

_**Vasilisa –**_

Dimitri stares at me with wide eyes, but his face remains calm and impassive. Rose's own expression oscillates between rage and a deep sadness. Victor had been manipulating her from the very beginning, and I think a part of her had always known that, but Rose's desire to find her parents had driven her to play along anyways.

"Lissa," says Dimitri. "What do you mean we're leaving?"

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. My confrontation with Victor had left my heart racing and my breathing ragged. When I had heard him threatening Rose, something within me had snapped. Standing up to him had never been my intention, but mostly because I hadn't known that I was strong enough to do it. "We can't stay here," I say, gesturing to the scorched unit. "It's not safe for Rose."

_It's not safe to stay near Victor._

Victor had played his part well; he had fooled me for 17 years, making me believe that he cared about me, when really he was just using me. He uses people, and now he is done using Rose and needs to dispose of her. I have no idea what lengths Victor would be willing to go to make that happen.

"Will you please explain to me what just happened," Dimitri says, bewildered. "Why is Victor trying to get Rose to leave?" His eyes dart between Rose and me, waiting for one of us to explain.

Rose opens her mouth to speak, but then clamps her jaw shut abruptly. Her eyes are bloodshot and her expression is strained. A strange sensation creeps over me, and I can't help but feel that the small part of the conversation I had overheard between Rose and Victor had been just the tip of the iceberg.

Dimitri fixes his gaze on me. "What aren't you telling me? Telling us?" he motions to Rose.

I chew on my lip, trying to choose my words carefully. Rose and Dimitri are now obviously aware of Victor's disposition, but I can't be sure if they fully understand why. "Victor…he's planning something, something big."

_Good job, Lissa, that wasn't vague at all._

Rose tenses, "What is he planning?" The notion that Victor might be planning something sets her nerves on edge.

"We can talk about that later," I say evasively. "Right now we need to start packing." I turn to leave, but Dimitri's voice calls me back.

"Slow down," says Dimitri, still looking understandably confused. "You haven't told us anything about why we're leaving, and where we'll go if we do."

"Victor doesn't trust Rose," I say bluntly. "He doesn't trust anyone who serves NAAMA, especially not an investigator…not after what they did to my parents." The last part of my explanations slips out, sort of as an afterthought.

Rose goes perfectly still; she is as pale and unmoving as a marble statue. An awkward silence fills the room. I wring my hands together tightly, but I'm so wound up that I probably wouldn't notice if I rubbed the skin right off.

"Vasilisa," says Rose in a shaky voice.

"Call me Lissa," I say without even thinking.

"Lissa," she starts again, more slowly this time. "What do you know about your parents?"

I blink back my surprise, and it takes me a moment to recover from the shock of Rose asking about my parents. "Why do you want to know?" My words are harsher than I had intended them to be. I may not blame Rose for the death of my parents, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to discuss the matter with her, or anyone really.

She hesitates before speaking; I can see her struggling to form sentences. "I need to tell you something," she says finally. She keeps her eyes trained on the floor; she seems even more vulnerable in this moment than she had when she'd been lying unconscious and bleeding on the table.

"Tell me what?" I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer. Whatever Rose is thinking about, it's making her tremble.

She looks up at me with her dark eyes, they're sunken and her skin is stretched over her cheekbones. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.

"Rose," says Dimitri softly, noticing her distress. "You should sit down." He places a hand on the small of her back and she lets him guide her to one of the chairs that ring the room. This doesn't seem like something Rose would allow Dimitri to do under normal circumstance, but she's so lost in her own thoughts that she hardly seems to notice him.

She sits with her injured arm cradled in her lap, and she takes a deep breath. She seems to expel some of her anxiety as she releases the air. "You should probably sit down too," she tells me.

I look around and grab the back of the chair nearest to me and drag it over to where Rose sits. "Okay," I say, dropping down unceremoniously onto the seat.

Dimitri is content to just hover over us with his arms folded, hiding behind his familiar neutral expression. A minute goes by, and neither Rose nor I speak. "Are either of you going to say anything?" he asks us impatiently.

Rose straightens up and focuses her gaze on me. "What do you know about your parents?" she asks me again. This time, I try not to react.

"They were teachers," I say, recalling what Victor had told me about them. "The Risk Prevention Department hunted them down when I was three." I don't bother hiding the bitterness in my voice.

"Teachers?" asks Rose in a small voice. "I didn't know that."

I tilt my head slightly in confusion. "How could you have known?"

Rose is clutching her injured arm now, digging her nails into it. "I know a lot of things," she all but whispers. "Things I wish I didn't know."

A lump is rising in my throat, it seems that I am not the only one being torn apart by secrets, and the pain in Rose's expression is etched on her face like the cracks in the stone walls that surround the compound.

I swallow hard. "What kind of things?"

She releases her arm, but it still bares tiny crescent shaped scars. "I found something, a file, when I was searching for information on the Havens; it said that…" she pauses, considering her words carefully. "Maybe I should start at the beginning, has Victor ever mentioned anything to you about the Purge?"

I shake my head, but I recognize the word itself.

_To cleanse, or to purify._

"That paper – the one that Victor stole from me. It was a journal entry – "

"Whose journal?" asks Dimitri suddenly, I had forgotten that he is still in the room with us.

"Probably an investigator," she says quickly. "It doesn't matter _who_ wrote it though, what matters is _what_ they wrote. They talked about something called the Purge."

"That doesn't sound good," Dimitri says wearily.

Rose shakes her head, her mouth set in a grim line. "It's not, based on what I've been able to gather so far, I think it was the systematic killing of anyone Executor Ozera considered a threat."

My mouth feels dry, but I manage to speak. "Like teachers."

"Engineers, scientists, anyone who can think for themselves," offers Dimitri, the disgust is plane in his voice.

"Right," says Rose, her voice is tight. "I think it was the Risk Prevention Department's original mission. I overheard my superiors talking about the Purge before I came here; they said that Victor had survived the Purge, but that…" she falters, "but that my parents didn't."

Something clicks inside my head; I had never stopped to consider what had led Rose to Victor. "So you came here looking for answers," I say mechanically.

She nods. "And then that file on the Havens mentioned the Purge again and I thought that maybe if I could investigate it further, it would lead me to my parents, but…" she cuts off abruptly.

"But?" I ask, my voice rising.

"It led me to yours," she says quietly.

My entire body goes rigid, and my throat constricts, rendering me incapable of responding. I study Rose carefully, her posture, her expression, the way she avoids my gaze.

_There's more. _

"Rose," I say, my voice shaking uncontrollably. "Tell me what you found."

She stiffens. "It was a detailed account of what happened on that day," she says, and somehow she manages to speak without any emotion. "They were reported to the RPD for spreading illegal content."

"I know all of this already," I tell her, trying not to sound as angry as I am.

_Why is she telling me this? Why is she making me relive that day?_

_I don't need to hear a detailed account of what happened to them._

_I was there. _

Her brown eyes, eyes that never miss a single detail, study me carefully. "Victor gave your parents up to the RPD."

Rose says something else after that, but I don't hear it. Instead, I hear Victor:

_It became clear to both your parents, and myself, that you were gifted…_

_I urged your parents to nurture your talents, but they were afraid for you…_

_Compassion and kindness were the only lessons they sought to pass on to you…_

_I took it upon myself to teach you…_

_I made you into a leader…_

I clamp my hands over my ears, trying to block out the sound of his voice. I don't want to believe Rose, I don't want to believe that Victor is responsible for the death of my parents, but he had all but admitted it to me. My parents didn't want me to learn, they didn't want to endanger me; Victor did, he couldn't make me into the person he wanted with my parents still in the picture. I suddenly knew exactly how far Victor was willing to go to accomplish his goals.

"Lissa," a voice calls out to me, but it's far away.

"Lissa," it says again. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

I wait for my body to shut down, for my heart to stop beating, for the air to disappear from my lungs, but nothing happens. I don't shake, I don't cry, I don't feel a thing.

"She doesn't believe me," the voice says, only this time there is a frantic edge to it. "It's the truth, Dimitri."

I look up to see that Rose is trying to rise from her seat, but Dimitri has one hand on her shoulder. They are both regarding me with wide, waiting eyes. He glances between Rose and me, unsure of what to do. Vaguely aware of my body's decision to move, I feel myself stand up.

"Lissa," says Dimitri, taking a step toward me.

"It's okay," I say holding up a hand to stop him. "She's telling the truth." My voice doesn't sound like my own.

They both freeze at my admission.

"This doesn't change anything," I tell them firmly. "We're still leaving."

Rose's revelation has only solidified my desire to leave this godforsaken compound behind, but when I look over at Rose and Dimitri, at her pale complexion and his shadowed eyes, I realize that neither of them is fit for the journey that I have in mind.

"As soon as Rose is well enough to travel," I add.

"I'm coming with you?" she asks meekly.

I feel my chest tighten. Rose thinks I hate her, she thinks I blame her.

"Yes," I tell her. "Victor might not be willing to help you find your parents, but I am."

She looks taken aback, "How, how are you going to do that?" she stammers out.

"Don't worry about that for right now," I tell her, trying to sound reassuring. "Focus on getting stronger." I walk over to the table where a few of the medical supplies Dimitri had managed to take from the RDC lay. I grab the bandages and thrust them into Dimitri's hands. "Take care of her, start with redressing her stitches."

"Where are you going?" he asks me concernedly, clutching the bandages tightly.

"I have some things to take care of," I say, hoping that neither of them will press me for more information. They stare at me like they would a ticking time-bomb, waiting for me to explode, but they let me leave without another word.

I push past the black fabric, leaving the warm ring of light. I am immediately plunged into darkness, but it doesn't scare me anymore.

_There are worse things than darkness._

I had always considered Victor to be my family, but instead, he turned out to be the one to destroy my family. Two weeks ago, I would have cried, the truth would have consumed me and then spit me back out. But now, as I walk down the passageway and up the stairs, I hardly feel a thing, I am completely numb and no longer aware of my own feelings.

I had sent Victor away, convinced that I would have no desire to speak with him, but things have changed. Before I leave him for good, I want to hear him admit to me what he has done. I want to hear him say it.

Then I will tell him my own plan.

I'll watch his face contort with rage, and then I'll leave him with the knowledge that he will never see his dreams come to fruition.

I push open the door of Victor's room without hesitation, thankful for the ice that has formed where my heart used to beat. The door bangs against the wall with surprising force and I call out for him.

"Victor," I say calmly into the darkness.

Silence.

"Victor," I say again, with more venom. "We need to talk."

I can't hear or see a thing. I retreat back into the hallway and into my own bedroom. I grope around on my bed in the dark until I find the lantern. I click the bottom and it flares to life. I don't waste any more time and I run back into Victor's room, only to find that it is empty. I race back into the hallway, the lantern casting wayward shadows on the walls as I run through the unit. I run in and out of the rooms, searching for any sign of him. My sweep only confirms my suspicions; Victor is gone.

**Hey guys! Thank you so much for the reviews on the last update! I'm glad that some of you are warming up to Lissa's character. There are probably 8 more chapters left in this installment, maybe more, maybe less. (I create outlines and then sometimes I start writing and I completely ignore them) Anyways, the next story is called **_**Haven. **_

**I'm also about so start the process of rewriting **_**Pulse**_**, but using my own characters. I was hoping that a few of you would be willing to read that even though it technically wouldn't be fanfiction anymore. PM me if you're interested. **

**Finally, to my guest reviewers, feel free to talk to me on Tumblr at **** because I can't respond to your questions on here! I love talking to you guys, even if it's not about VA or writing. **


	21. Chapter 21

_**Rose – **_

After I graduated from the Academy, I was immediately turned over to the Risk Prevention Department for further training. The RPD didn't just hand me a red belt as soon as I swore my oath to uphold their principals. My superiors had made it clear that I would have to earn my place among the Investigators, which involved developing a set of particular skills.

On the first day, I had found myself sitting in a straight-backed metal chair in the center of a bleak looking stone room. At first, I had been amused by the strange situation I had found myself in. It was clear that someone had gone to great lengths to create an intimidating environment. A single fluorescent light bulb hung from the ceiling, and it dangled on a rusted chain over my chair. It would flicker every few minutes, which was more annoying than anything else. I sat slumped in the chair with one leg crossed over the other in front of me, and I had been staring at that stupid bulb for what felt like hours, when the door to my tiny cell had burst open.

I had rolled my head around reluctantly to find Investigator Ozera standing in the doorway, looking as smug as he ever had, his icy blue eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and anticipation.

I had tried to look as disinterested as possible. "I should have known you were behind this," I said holding out both arms to gesture to the dank room. "It has your charm."

Christian Ozera had graduated from the academy a year before me. He was every bit as arrogant and entitled as his aunt was. He and Executor Ozera shared many things, from their black hair and blue eyes, to their predisposition for terrorizing others. Christian was also responsible for hazing me back in my days at the academy, and we had never really warmed up to each other.

"Rose Hathaway," he said, ignoring my comment. "I never got the chance to congratulate you on passing our little test."

I had yawned. "You say that like it was hard."

If Christian had been angered by my flippancy, he hadn't shown it. His sharp eyes had regarded me carefully. "We usually wait a few days before starting this phase of your training; we want the recruits to get acclimated first, but since you are so obviously bored with our curriculum, I think it would be in your best interest to start right now."

He had stepped out of the room without offering an explanation; the whole display had been rather dramatic. I was sure that this had been done on purpose to scare me, but I had been taught that being afraid made a person weak. Even as a child I had sworn off anything that might impair me, and that meant training myself to be fearless.

Christian came back into the room a few minutes later, with two other investigators in tow. Each of them was pushing a metal cart. The first cart was wheeled behind me, and on it was a box. The box wasn't big, but it was covered with a series of dials and a needle that looked like it was used to measure voltage. The first investigator had secured a padded headset to my temples, but I had not flinched as my skin came into contact with the cold metal. The headset was attached to the box by a long wire, and when I had reached up to adjust it, the investigator had swatted my hand away.

"Don't touch," chastised Christian, "Or I'll have you restrained."

I didn't respond, and had settled for glaring at him while the second investigator began attaching a cuff made of some plastic material to my forearm. Two rubber coils were stretched across my chest and a series of wires had been attached to the tips of my index and ring fingers. All of the wires were feeding back into a machine that sat on the second cart. It took me a moment to recognize that it was a polygraph machine. I had tried to remember everything I had learned about what my instructors had referred to as a lie detector. I knew that it measured autonomic indices, like blood pressure, pulse, respiration, and skin conductivity, but I had been taught how to administer a test, not how to be on the receiving end of one.

Once I had been decked out with wires and cuffs, one of the investigators left the room, but the other remained standing at attention behind me. Christian stood behind the polygraph machine and smiled at me, but his smile was not meant to be kind.

"Alright Hathaway," he had said with a smirk. "This little machine is the latest technology NAAMA has to offer for deception detection." He sounded like a traveling salesman. "I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want you to answer them to the best of your ability."

I took a deep breath and fixed him with a steady gaze. I had refused to betray any emotion. "Get on with it then."

Christian flipped a switch on the polygraph machine and it whirred to life. I couldn't see the screen but I could picture the way the lines would move across it, and how they would rise and fall in peaks and valleys as I spoke, measuring my body's responses.

"What is your name?"

"Rosemarie Hathaway," I had said in a steady voice.

"How old are you?"

"18."

"What is your sex?"

"Are you hitting on me?" I asked in the same neutral tone.

"Answer the question," he demanded.

"Female."

"Now for the fun part," said Christian maliciously. "Have you ever hit anyone?"

"Yes," I told him automatically. "Many times."

"Have you ever cheated on an academy administered exam?"

"No," I said mechanically, even though I had once written the names of notable military personnel on my hand for one of my exams when I was 11.

Christian's eyes, which had been fixed on the screen, flicked over to me. "You're lying," he said viciously.

A bolt of energy suddenly shot through my body and my limbs jerked violently in all directions. My skin was on fire, it felt as though a hot, thick liquid was rippling through my body, starting at my temples. My whole body was rocked with spasms for what felt like years, and then it was over. Christian was saying something to me, but I couldn't hear him over the buzzing sound that had filled my ears. My heart was racing and my hands were trembling. The backs of my eyes had stung, but I kept my face as still as possible.

"Rose!" snapped Christian. "Now you know what happens when you lie."

He had waited for my pulse to return to normal, and then continued his interrogation, shocking me whenever he felt that I was lying. This went on for days before Christian had explained why he was torturing me. He had told me that being an Investigator for the Risk Prevention Department meant telling lies. I would have to lie to civilians to get information, to pacify them, to disarm them. Knowing the truth didn't always make things better. He had told me that lying was human nature, but that despite how instinctual deception was; most of us were very bad at it. He was going to teach me to fabricate truths, to weave intricate falsehoods without having to think twice.

I learned to regulate what should have been the most automatic of bodily functions. I was eventually able to deceive the polygraph machine, and lying became second nature to me. My fellow recruits and me were encouraged to lie to each other on a regular basis so that we could practice. It was a sort of sick game we played with each other, one that would help us avoid being electrocuted.

I have been classically conditioned to lie. It comes as naturally to me as breathing, but I hadn't been able to lie to Lissa. At the first mention of her parents, I had spilled my guts to her, and to Dimitri. I had told the truth, expecting that it would make me feel lighter, but the look on Lissa's face had shattered those hopes. I had watched as my words broke something within her, and then I watched again as she remade herself into something harder.

Dimitri and I stare at the place in the black curtains where Lissa had disappeared. He is clutching the bandages to his chest so tightly that his knuckles are white. He turns to me with an expression I can't discern, and I am too drained to try.

"How long did you plan on keeping that to yourself?" he asks. I can tell he is straining to keep his tone from sounding accusatory.

"I…well, I was going to – I don't know." My shoulder is throbbing, and the pain pulsing through me is hindering my ability to form coherent sentences. "Why does it matter?" I finally manage to say. "Now you both know the truth."

"Is there anything else we should know about?"

The Dimitri who had written about my kindness and had kissed me in the flickering candlelight has been replaced by the one who asks hard questions and is fiercely protective of Lissa, the one he had been when we'd first met.

I let out a long breath. "No," I tell him quietly. "That was everything."

His dark eyes wash over me, searching for any sign that I might be hiding something else. I want to tell him that even if I was lying to him, he wouldn't be able to tell.

"Okay," he says finally, "I just wish you would have said something sooner."

His words catch me off guard, but I do my best not to react. "Should I have told you before or after I was stabbed?" I ask deadpan.

"Rose –" he starts.

"Or maybe I should have told you right after I killed that guard so we could escape?" I say bitterly. "Wait! I bet telling you while I was bleeding out in the back of that train would have been the most effectual."

"Rose, stop, please," his tone is pleading. "I didn't mean – "

"Don't you get it?" I ask, cutting him off. "There was no right time to tell you, and even if our plan had gone off without a hitch, I still wouldn't have known how to tell you or Lissa about Victor. This is all so new for me," I say gesturing to him. "To have people in my life that I want to protect. Did you see Lissa's face after I told her the truth? It _destroyed_ her. She was better off not knowing."

"It's not up to you decide what truths a person is better off knowing and not knowing," he tells me in a surprisingly gentle tone. "I would rather know the truth, no matter how horrible, than live a lie. I think Lissa would too. She'll be okay," he adds as an afterthought.

I consider his words carefully. Is that what I would want too?

"You did the right thing," he tells me, walking over to where I sit in the rickety wooden chair. "Now turn around so I can change your bandages."

I do as he says and turn so that I am straddling the back of the chair. I shrug my bad arm out of the shirt sleeve and then lean forward, my chin resting on the chair. I feel Dimitri peel the strips of cloth away one by one. His hands are steady as he presses fresh bandages over my stiches, but my shoulder still aches.

"Lissa said she's going to help me find my parents," I say softly, hoping that my words will distract me from the pain.

"We both will," he tells me firmly.

"What about your parents?"

The hand that Dimitri had been pressing against my back falls away. "What about them?" His voice is taught as a wire.

I'm glad Dimitri can't see me chewing on my lip nervously. "Where are they?"

"I don't know," he says, resuming his work. "Probably dead."

"You don't know for sure?"

He lets out a sigh, "If I told you to let this go, would you?"

I turn my head to peer over my shoulder at him. "No."

"I came to America with my mother and my sisters when I was nine," he starts off.

"What about your father?"

He hesitates before continuing. "My father was not a good man…he liked to hit my mother."

I tense beneath him. "Is that why you left?"

"Yes," he says quickly. "My mother thought that we could start over in America. We had been here for three weeks, staying in a hotel on the West coast when the Pulse happened."

I take a sharp breath. "Do you remember it? The Pulse, I mean."

"I will never forget that day. We were on the subway when it happened."

"A subway?" I ask, not sure what he's talking about it.

"It's a train that runs underground," he says mechanically. "All of the power went out and it stopped running. We were trapped, with no way to call for help. The phones were dead; there were no first responders, no emergency services. Pretty soon people started to panic, it was dark and our air was running out in the train car. We had to find a way out, and we wondered the underground tunnels for hours until we reached a station."

"That sounds awful," I breathe.

"It wasn't even the worst part," he says bitterly. "My mother and my sisters made it to the surface only to discover that the city was burning…there was an airplane that had fallen out of the sky; it was lying in the street. People were screaming, and Viktoria was just a baby. She wouldn't stop crying."

"Dimitri," I say, turning around to face him. "You don't have to keep going."

The look on his face is far away, his eyes are hollow and his mouth is set in a straight line. "There's not much left. We made it out of the city, to one of the refugee camps. Soldiers came in the middle of the night; they took me away from my mother. They put me on a train with a few other boys my age, and I've been here ever since."

I blink back my surprise, "Did you ever find out why they took you?"

"No," he says hanging his head. "Victor thought that it could have been for any number of reasons, redistributing the population, balancing out male and female ratios within compounds."

"You were nine!" I couldn't help but shout. "You were a little boy!"

"Rose," he says calmly. "It's done. Getting angry isn't going to change what happened. This is my life now." His gaze is steady, and the vacancy I had seen there earlier has vanished. "You should get some rest."

I clamp my mouth shut at his suggestion. A million questions are swirling around in my head, but I know that Dimitri has already revealed enough to me, probably more than he had ever intended to. I want to comfort him, I want to wrap my arms around him and tell him not to worry, that we'll find his family too. He's already straightening up the pile of pillows and blankets though, and so I fold up the words like a piece of paper, and tuck them back into the corners of my mind.

"I'll be out here if you need me," he says, turning to go.

"Wait," I say quickly. "You don't have to go; you could sleep in here…if you wanted to."

He hesitates for a brief moment. "Okay."

We lay next to each other on the floor of the scorched unit. The candles are burning off the last of their light, and the only sound I can hear is Dimitri's steady breathing. He had been careful to fall asleep in such a way that our bodies didn't touch, which is strange considering that a few hours ago we had been pulling off each other's clothing. Now I try to consider what has changed since then.

I wonder if my revelation has made him reconsider his feelings toward me, maybe he doesn't think I'm good any more. My thoughts drift to what might have happened if Victor hadn't interrupted us. Perhaps that had been for the best. I have no idea how relationships between men and women function. I don't know how to express my own feelings, but that's partly because I have no idea _what_ I'm feeling most of the time.

I roll over onto my good shoulder so that I can watch him. We are separated by mere inches, but he still seems a million miles away from me. I don't know what to do, and I have never been so unsure of what will come next. Lissa says we're leaving, but I don't know where we're going. Dimitri had stayed with me, but I don't know how he feels about me. I find myself wishing that he would just tell me, and I realize that he had been right; it is better to know the truth, even if it hurts.

**Hi! So this was a lot of background, but it was all necessary and I hope you enjoyed it! Also I received a lot of messages about reading the rewrite with the original characters! You can find it on my tumblr account, shadowkissed-rachel, then just click on the Pulse link. If you like it, don't thank me, thank shayisaslytherin, who is a magical goddess and edited most of it. I also realize that I'm a crazy woman and I have four different active stories, but I just love them all so much so try to be patient, I update them when I can. In the meantime, you should go read GiGi256's new story, **_**Meet Me in the Memory**_**, because it's already beautiful and wonderful. Okay, I'm done. Leave me a review; they give me life, bye! **


	22. Chapter 22

_**Vasilisa- **_

"What are you doing here?"

My words are punctuated by puffs of smoke, visible in the cold morning air, and are directed at Adrian, who is leaning against the door to the Resource Distribution Center with his arms crossed over his chest, and his hair sticking out in random directions. There are shadows under his eyes, but Adrian has an uncanny ability to make even exhaustion look beautiful.

Adrian sticks out his bottom lip at me, doing his best to look put out by my question, but I can still see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Haven't you heard? I'm the new face of the Resource Distribution Center." He gestures to the building he is currently leaning against and grins at me.

My jaw falls open. "You're what?"

He shrugs casually, but I know he enjoys catching me off guard. "I work here now." Despite the enthusiasm he had displayed only moments earlier, he speaks with a lazy contempt.

I fight the urge to bring my palm up to smack myself in the forehead. "Since when?"

An extra pair of eyes watching me at work is the last thing I need.

"Since Cal got sacked and you've been doing a shit job of running the place by yourself," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and strolling lazily toward me.

Adrian has a point. It has been four days since Victor had disappeared, and thinking of him and what he might be planning takes up most of my time. I don't pay attention to my work, I write out orders for supplies without looking at them, and I haven't written a single report since taking over Cal's position. My eyes are too busy darting around the compound, searching for his face. My mind is too busy replaying his words, trying to determine where he might have gone. My ears are straining, sifting through the noises of the compound for his voice.

"I've been a little distracted," I tell Adrian though gritted teeth.

Adrian moves so that that he is standing directly in front of me. "I know. I'm sorry" he says, his face softening. "First Dimitri and now Victor…how is he doing? Is he still sick?"

I knew that telling Adrian's mother, Daniela – the compound's resident busybody, that Victor had taken a turn for the worse would be the most effective way to cover up his disappearance. Victor's poor health has never been a secret, and so everyone had accepted my explanation without hesitation.

I start rummaging through the pockets of my coat, hoping to avoid Adrian's gaze without raising his suspicions. "He's weak," I say evasively. I start moving toward the door to the RDC, clutching my keys tightly.

Adrian trails after me like a lost puppy. "Does he need anything? Mother says he can't leave the bed…and she mentioned something else about sores…" His voice trails off.

I fumble with the keys as I try to fit them into the lock, but I drop them as soon as Adrian mentions sores. I should have known that Daniela would take a few liberties when she repeated the news of Victor's condition to others. Adrian moves more quickly than me, and he swipes the keys out of the dirt and jams one into the lock at random.

"No," I say sharply. "He just needs to rest. He doesn't want to be disturbed," I add with finality.

Adrian doesn't seem to be listening any more though, and he selects another key to test on the door. "Can't even open the damn door," he mutters under his breath.

I hold out my hand impatiently, and he presses them into my palm reluctantly. I open the RDC and we burst through the door together, both of us eager to escape the morning chill. Adrian follows me down the long corridor, past Cal's old office and toward the counter. I pull out my ledger and request slips, trying to prepare for the day as if Adrian isn't breathing down my neck.

"So," he says, grabbing my ledger off the counter to examine it. "You should probably know that even though I am grateful for the opportunity, and to be free of the corn fields, I don't plan on working very hard," he declares, he even manages to sound sincere.

"Adrian, give that back," I say prying the ledger out of his hands. "And you have to do whatever I say. I'm your supervisor now."

Adrian's eyes widen as if he hadn't considered that fact until this moment. "Lissa, cousin," he says smoothly. "I've lived a hard life, laboring away in those fields so that I can feed my family, have some sympathy."

"I'm not your cousin," I say exasperatedly. I hand him a stack of carbon copies of past orders. "Go through these, start making lists, write down the names and then everything they've ordered."

Adrian starts leafing through the slips and then stares up at me with his mouth agape. "These go back months!" he exclaims.

I offer him a meek smile and then sit down at my usual place behind the counter. I'm lining up my ledger with the edge of the counter when I feel Adrian tap me on the shoulder. I turn around, one eyebrow raised, and wait for him to speak.

"Shouldn't you be compiling reports?" he asks, "And shouldn't I be taking orders? At least that's what I was told I would be doing." He seems genuinely confused, and there is none of his usual flippancy present in his question.

Adrian is right actually, but I need to distract him, and I need unrestricted access to the order slips and the ledger. My role here at the RDC is an integral part of the plan that Rose, Dimitri, and I had concocted. Before Rose had left for the holding facility, she had told me that I needed to take over Cal's position at the RDC, and that I would understand her reasoning later. I should have known that what Rose had meant was that we would need access to supplies. In the past four days, I had forged a number of request slips, bringing them to the warehouse right after shift changes to ensure that I would never deal with the same worker twice in one day. We had managed to get ahold of almost everything that we would need for our plan to work. Today will be the last day I need to steal from the RDC. Tonight, we will run.

"I'm really behind on the reports, it would help me more if you could work on those," I tell him with a reassuring smile. "I'll train you to work the counter once we're all caught up."

I feel bad lying to Adrian. He and his parents have always been kind to Victor and me; they've also been attending our gatherings for as long as Victor's been holding then. Adrian would never betray me, but I still can't trust him with what I'm planning. Running will be hard enough with three people, especially since Rose is injured.

He lets out an exaggerated sigh, "Fine, but you owe me." He waves the slips in my face before stomping off toward Cal's old office.

I wait for the sound of the door slamming before reaching for a pen. I begin scribbling out requests for everything from extra sets of winter clothing, to bandages, to matches. I stuff the slips into the pocket of my coat when I notice that a line has begun to form in front of the counter. I unlock the bars, and let them swing forward. I work for exactly two hours and forty-five minutes before informing the people in line that the RDC will be closing temporarily. They all grumble their annoyance and glare at me, but I do my best to ignore them.

I manage to sneak past Cal's office without Adrian noticing, and I slip out the back door. The warehouse isn't far from the RDC, and I arrive ten minutes before the workers will change shifts. One of the workers unhitches himself from the wall he had been leaning against at my approach.

"Back again?" asks the man playfully.

I laugh nervously at his question. "Just preparing for the winter, you know how busy we get during the later months."

I rummage through my pockets and withdraw one of the slips, careful not to pull out the others.

"Don't I know it," he says, taking the slip from me. He glances back up, a look of confusion on his face. "You need all this?"

Panic seizes me when I realize I have no idea which slip I had handed him. "Like I said…just want to be prepared," I tell him vaguely.

His face falls a little, "Your uncle is still sick, isn't he?" He looks genuinely concerned.

I nod my head gravely, feeling too uneasy to speak.

"I'll be right back," he tells me before turning and heading into the warehouse.

He returns a few minutes later with two first aid kits. He hesitates at first, but then places them in my arms carefully. First aid kits are in limited supply at the compound. We have to special order them, and people can only put in requests for a kit once a month.

"You take good care of him," he tells me sternly.

"Thank you," I say quietly. "I will."

I begin walking toward the RDC with my spoils, feeling sick to my stomach. It feels as if every time I open my mouth to speak, another lie pours out of it. Everyone expects me to take care of my uncle, to be worried about him – and I am, just not in the way they think I should be. I'm worried that he's left the compound, that he's already halfway to the Havens. Rose thinks that it's unlikely he made it past the stone walls without getting caught, but her reasoning doesn't keep my mind from inventing scenarios that involve him getting away.

I return to the RDC, twisting the knob to the door and shutting it behind me as soundlessly as possible. The door to Cal's office is still shut and so I take the opportunity to stash the kits in the broom closet next to Cal's office. The closet is filled with bags of food, supplies, and clothing – everything that I have accumulated over the past four days. Rose didn't want to risk me being seen crossing the compound with the supplies, so we had decided that the safest thing to do would be to hide them at the RDC until we are ready to leave.

I set the kits down on the floor next to a bag of apples, and then slip out of the enclosed space. The door to the closet shuts behind me softly, but as soon as I turn around to head back down the corridor, I run straight into Adrian. He regards me curiously, his green eyes searching mine.

"What are you doing?" he asks, craning his neck to see past me.

I take a step to the side, trying to block the closet door with my body. "Nothing," I say quickly. "I can't find my pencil."

He frowns, "You're looking for a pencil…in a broom closet?" he moves toward the door with an outstretched hand.

"Adrian," I snap. "Don't you have some reports to finish?"

He freezes, turning his head to glare at me. "Fine, keep your secrets."

Adrian turns on his heel and stalks off before I can defend myself. I let myself fall back against the door, my eyes shutting for a moment. The stealing, and the lying, and the scheming has left me feeling drained. Rose and Dimitri can't leave the safety of the housing units, and so the most essential parts of our plan are resting on my shoulders. The weight of Victor's betrayal and his subsequent disappearance is pressing down on me, threatening to crush me. No matter how hard I try, no matter what I focus on, Victor is always there in the back of mind. A part of me is scared something dreadful has happened to him, a part of me is scared that it hasn't.

I suddenly remember that the warehouse workers are about to rotate, and my lids fly open. I rush back out and hand over another request slip to the new worker. I repeat that same process at the top of every rotation, and manage to do so without Adrian's interference, until I have collected the last of what we will need. I had been able to gather everything we would need with a few request slips to spare, and they lay crinkled in the pocket of my coat.

I peak my head into the office a few minutes before the final bell is scheduled to ring. Adrian is sitting in the plush rolling chair with his feet on the desk. He is staring at a spot on the ceiling. I follow his gaze and find a number of pencils sticking out of the cork ceiling tiles. Adrian doesn't turn his head to look at me; instead he flings another pencil into the air, lodging it in the ceiling next to the others.

"So that's where all the pencils have gone," I tell him with a wry smile.

Adrian rolls his head around to look at me. "Is it time to go?" he asks, ignoring my comment.

I open the door a little further and nod at him. He swings his legs around and gets up from the chair, all the while avoiding my gaze. He brushes past me without a word and I trail after him.

"Adrian, wait," I call out.

He ignores me, but he pauses in front of the closet door. He peers over his shoulder at me, "So now you want to talk?"

"I'm sorry," I say when I catch up to him. "I didn't mean to snap at you or ignore you. I've just been really stressed out lately."

"I get it," he says, raking a hand through his dark hair. "You've got a lot going on."

He turns so that we are standing face to face, and he takes a step toward me. Adrian is much taller than me, and he looks down at me with an expression I can't discern. We aren't touching, but he is close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from him. He leans his head down slightly, so that we are even closer now.

"Adrian," I breathe. "What are you – "

Before I can register what's happening, his hand reaches into the pocket of my coat and snatches the request slips. I stagger back, startled by his sudden movement.

"What am I doing?" he thunders, holding out the slips in his clenched fist. "What are you doing? You've been in and out of this place all day, you're hiding something in this stupid closet, and you have a pocket full of request slips for…" he begins sifting through them and reading off the supplies. "Candles? Canned meat? Hydrogen peroxide?" He stares at me, his face a stormy mixture of hurt and confusion. "What is going on with you?"

"I…I can't tell you," I stammer out. "I just need you to trust me on this."

He snorts, "Why should I do that when you so obviously don't trust me?"

"Adrian, please. You know me. I wouldn't be doing something like this unless I had a reason to."

"I do know you," he says in a detached voice. "That's why I'm so confused. You've never hidden anything from me before. We've been sharing secrets since we were little kids…you, me, Dimitri."

It had been selfish of me to assume that Dimitri's disappearance would only affect me. Dimitri and Adrian have been friends for as long as I can remember. They hadn't always gotten along, mostly because they are two vastly different people, but that doesn't really matter when you're a bunch of kids growing up in a place like NAAMA. If your parents survived the Pulse, if your family wasn't ripped apart by the relocation decrees, then you were one of the lucky ones. Dimitri, Adrian, and I hadn't been so lucky, and so we had always gravitated toward each other. We'd taken care of each other when no one else could, but now he thinks that Dimitri is most likely dead, and I'm planning on leaving him.

I take a deep breath, gathering my resolve. "Follow me."

Adrian manages to make it all the way to the housing units without uttering a single word.

"Are we going to see Victor?"

"No," I say, opening the door to my unit. "Victor is gone."

"Gone?" squeaks Adrian from behind me. "Like gone as in dead?"

I shake my head. "No, I'll explain in a moment, just stop talking."

Adrian trails after me, watching me closely as I pop open the seal to the concealed door next to the staircase. Together, we fumble through the darkness until we reach the abandoned unit. I feel Adrian tense beside me as the low murmurs coming from behind the black curtains drift to our ears.

"Lissa," he breathes. "What is this?"

I chew on my lip, and instead of responding to Adrian, I call out to Rose and Dimitri. "I'm back…and I brought someone with me."

The voices cut off at the sound of my voice, and I hear Rose curse. There is a rustle of fabric, and then she pokes out her head from between the curtains. "You did what?" she growls.

Adrian stands rooted to the spot, too stunned to speak.

Rose's expression darkens as she takes in the presence of Adrian. "What is he doing here? Are you crazy?"

The rest of the curtain parts and Dimitri emerges from behind it. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

Adrian lets out a strangled sound from beside me. "That's a damn good question," he says once he recovers from the initial shock of seeing Rose and Dimitri.

"You're supposed to be dead!" he says pointing an accusing finger at Dimitri. "You," he says turning his gaze on Rose. "You're supposed to be…doing whatever it is investigators do…torturing former science teachers or something. And you," he says, whirling on me. "You're not supposed to hide things like this from me!"

"Adrian, keep your voice down," I hiss. "If you agree to not speak for five whole minutes, I will explain everything."

He opens his mouth to protest, but clamps it shut after a moment, deciding that he would rather hear my confession than argue with me. He turns away from me and stalks off in the direction of the parted curtains. Rose and Dimitri step aside to let him pass. Once he disappears from my sight, Rose shoots me a withering look. I'm too exhausted to do anything but shrug.

I walk toward her and she slips out from between the drapes completely, looking like she intends to confront me. She's wearing my clothes, and seeing her in a dark grey tunic instead of her military uniform is unsettling. Dimitri had fashioned a sling for her out of scraps of fabric, and even though she is injured and wearing a dress, Rose still looks like she could kill me using only a shoelace.

I hold up a hand before she can speak. "I know what you're going to say, but I didn't really have a choice."

She studies me carefully before responding. "We always have a choice."

"How very Zen of you," I retort. "Been taking lessons from Dimitri?"

Rose rolls her eyes at me. "What makes you think you didn't have a choice? Why did you bring him here?"

"He was reassigned to the RDC. He was there all day – watching me while I tried to get the rest of what we need for tonight. He knew I was up to something."

"So," she says incredulously. "You just decided that the best course of action would be to bring him here and tell him everything?"

"What would you have done?"

"I would have lied," she says bluntly. "You could have explained what you were doing without blowing our cover."

"It's more than that," I snap. "Adrian is our friend; he has a right to know that Dimitri is alive, and he has a right to know why we're leaving."

Rose sighs in defeat. "Do you trust him?"

I nod my head fervently.

"Good, I'd hate to have to kill him."

**You guys are all my favorite people, I love reading your reviews. And to the guest reviewer who is in the hospital, I hope you are doing better today! I was excited to write this chapter because up until this point, Adrian has been background noise. The next few chapters and the next installment will feature more characters from the VA universe so get ready! Who are you most excited to read about? What do you think happened to victor, and where the heck are Rose, Dimitri, and Lissa going?**


	23. Chapter 23

_**Rose – **_

I feel as though I should be commended for not immediately throttling Lissa or Adrian the moment I laid eyes on them. I can't think of a single scenario where bringing him into the loop ends well. I know Lissa and Dimitri care about him, I know Lissa probably wants to say goodbye, but at what cost? Once the Risk Prevention Department figures out that Victor has eluded custody, they'll turn on Lissa. The investigators will go after her, and if everything goes according to plan, it will be too late and we will have fled the compound. But they won't stop there, they never stop. Investigators are ruthless hunters, and they will follow the trail to the bitter end. They'll round up her closest friends; anyone who's ever been associated with her will be questioned. If an investigator even suspects for a moment that Adrian knows something, he'll be taken away for a formal interrogation. I have seen firsthand what happens during an RPD sanctioned interrogation of a civilian.

Adrian would not live out the night.

To my surprise, Lissa doesn't even bat an eyelash at my veiled threat on Adrian's life. She brushes past me without a word, careful to avoid my injured shoulder. Dimitri had woven several strips of fabric together to make a sling for my arm. I know he means well, but I despise wearing the sling. My arm dangling limply in front of my chest is nothing but a cruel reminder that I am not operating at peak performance. I have been getting stronger every day, but it could be months before I heal completely.

_If I ever heal completely. _

The heavy curtains fall back into place as I turn to join the others in the inner ring. Adrian is standing on the far side of the room with Dimitri, their heads bowed in a deep conversation. Lissa is sitting in a chair off to the side, ringing her hands together and regarding me uneasily. She knows I don't approve of Adrian's presence, but she also knows that there is nothing I can do about it now.

"Let's get this over with," I say flopping down into a chair beside Lissa.

Adrian's gaze flicks to where we sit, and he eyes me warily. I'm used to this kind of scrutiny, and I suppose Adrian has dealt with my less approachable side before. The image of me pinning his arm behind his back and threatening to arrest him flashes briefly through my mind. I smile at him, hoping that it will reassure him that I don't intend to hurt him, but I watch as he visibly whitens and then takes a step closer to Dimitri.

_I tried. _

"I'm not going to arrest you," I tell Adrian flatly. "You can sit down."

Dimitri and I make eye contact for a moment, and then he turns away to address Adrian. "It's a long story, you should sit."

Adrian hesitates for a split second and then sits down as far away from me as he can manage. Dimitri sits somewhere between Adrian and me, as if he were some kind of mediator. An awkward silence follows over the room and the air is thick with tension.

"What do you want to know?" Lissa finally asks.

"Where is Victor?" demands Adrian.

_We don't know. _

He's been missing for four days now. Lissa had wanted to report the disappearance to Mikhail, but I knew that would lead to too many questions. It's unlikely that Victor has fled the compound, despite all his cunning; he is still an old man, and a sick one at that. No. I can feel it in my bones; Victor is here somewhere, biding his time.

My stomach feels like an icy pit, and Dimitri, Lissa, and I all exchange troubled looks.

"I can see you all, you know," says Adrian, sounding annoyed. "I'm not blind. Now tell me where Victor is. You told me that he was gone and then took me into this creepy room without any explanation."

Lissa sucks in a breath before speaking. "Victor isn't who you think he is," she says, choosing her words carefully. "Do you remember what I told you about what happened to my parents?"

Adrian furrows his brows. "Yes…they were killed by _investigators_," he spits his words out at me, his tone venomous

Lissa grimaces. "Yes, they were, But only because Victor sold them out to the Risk Prevention Department first." Her tone is cold and distant.

This is the first time I've heard Lissa talk about her parents since the night I told her what really happened.

Adrian's jaw falls open, and then to everyone's astonishment, he laughs. "Is that what _she_ told you?" he asks, pointing a finger at me. "What is she even doing here?"

"Rose isn't who you think she is either," says Dimitri, coming to my defense. "She's helping us."

Dimitri and I avoid looking at each other. Our relationship has become strained, each of us unsure of how the other feels, each of us knowing that any feelings we might have need to come second to our plan. I try telling myself that kissing Dimitri had been a mistake, but another part of me questions how something that had felt so pure could be a mistake. We had spent the past four days in a quiet limbo, and I could do nothing but watch him as my heart cooked my brain.

"Was she _helping_ you when she arrested you?!" Adrian barks.

"Well technically, he was helping me," I say matter-of-factly.

"Rose," groans Lissa. "Let us handle this."

I throw up my working arm defensively, "Fine."

"Why don't we start at the beginning?" offers Dimitri.

Lissa nods in agreement. "Adrian, before we tell you what's going on, you have to promise you won't repeat any of this to anyone; not your parents, not Jill, not Mia…"

"Sorry," I interject, not able to help myself. "I know you two want to take the reins on this, but I would like it to go on record that we should not be telling him _anything_. It's too dangerous," I say, turning to Lissa. "This is a bad idea."

"Dangerous for who?" inquires Adrian. "For you?"

"For you, actually. Dimitri and I are wanted fugitives, and we have to leave the compound."

"And Lissa is helping you escape?" he asks, trying to puzzle the pieces together.

"I'm going with them," Lissa tells him hesitantly. "It's not safe for me either."

Adrian shakes his head in frustration, but I cut him off before he can respond. "The Risk Prevention Department is looking for us. Their investigation will eventually lead them here, and they will question every person in this compound to get information, down to the last child. Investigators have trained their whole lives for this, they're cunning and driven, and won't stop until they've turned over every stone and exhausted every lead. They will torture you Adrian, until you've told them everything, and then they will kill you."

"You talk like you aren't one of them," snarls Adrian.

Every time he addresses me, it's with a blatant hatred; he doesn't bother masking his contempt. When I had observed him before now, he seemed arrogant and impulsive. I realize now that my first impression of him hadn't been entirely accurate. He is also fiercely loyal to his friends, and protective of them. He still sees me as a threat to their well-being.

I'm not used to having to defend my intentions; I've never had to justify my actions to anyone until recently. Investigators don't owe civilians anything, including explanations.

_But I'm not an investigator anymore. _

"I have lived my entire life believing that my parents were dead," I say as calmly as I can. "I found out that they were somehow linked with Victor, and so I sought him out. I came here because I needed his help."

Adrian and the others have fallen completely silent.

"He promised to tell me what happened to them, but only if I did something for him first."

"What did he want?" asks Adrian.

"The Havens. He wanted me to break into a holding facility to get information on the Havens."

"The Havens?" says Adrian, clearly taken aback. "The Havens are just a story, they're – "

"Very real," finishes Dimitri. "Rose arrested me so that she would have a reason to travel to the facility. She found what Victor wanted, she found the Havens, but she also found out the truth about what happened to Lissa's parents."

"How can you trust her? How do you know what she says is true?" Adrian asks, still not convinced.

"She saved my life," says Lissa in a small voice.

"And mine," adds Dimitri.

All eyes are now on me, their gazes thoughtful and admiring. I want to sink back against the chair, to disappear, anything to escape their looks. I can withstand glares and scowls and contempt, but this? I don't know how to respond this.

"Yes, we all trust each other and it's very warm and fuzzy," I say quickly, rising form my seat. "Long story short, I told Lissa the truth, she confronted Victor, and he disappeared. We don't know where he is, but we can't wait around to find out either. At this point, the RPD probably knows I've gone rogue, that arresting Dimitri was a ploy, and that Victor is still at large. Now, Lissa, did you get everything we talked about?"

"Yes, it's locked up in the RDC."

"Is there enough for four?"

Lissa blinks back her surprise, "Four? You don't mean…"

"I do," I say, turning to face Adrian. "Congratulations, you've earned yourself a ticket out of the frying pan and into the fire."

"Rose, you can't be serious," sputters Lissa, getting up from her chair. "We can't bring Adrian, it's too dangerous."

"He's in danger no matter what! He knows too much."

"No," says Lissa, shaking her head fervently. "He – "

"I want to go," says Adrian with surprising conviction. "Although, I didn't quite catch where it is exactly that we're going." He and Dimitri have since risen from their chairs.

"See," I say to Lissa. "He wants to go."

"Leaving the compound is going to be hard enough with three people," she hisses.

"I know, you should have thought about that before you brought him here," I counter.

"I didn't think you were going to invite him to come along," snaps Lissa.

"So are you not going to tell me where we're going or – "

Lissa and I turn our heads toward Adrian at the same time, "Shut up, Adrian." I freeze for a moment, realizing that we had spoken in unison.

Amusement flashes across Adrian's face for a brief moment, but is replaced by a more serious demeanor almost instantly. "Fine, don't tell me. I just need to get a few things from my unit," he says, moving toward the curtains.

"No," I tell him, moving to block his path. "You're not going anywhere. We're leaving as soon as it gets dark enough."

"What about my parents? I need –"

"Don't you get it?" I demand. "They can't know! Revealing secrets is like pulling the pin out of a grenade. You have to keep your hand pressed around the lever for the rest of your life, or it will blow up in your face!" My chest is rising and falling quickly, but I refuse to back down. Adrian has to deal with the consequences of knowing the truth.

Adrian flinches. "I can't say goodbye?"

"No," I say, my resolve hardening into stone. "It's safer for them this way."

He shrinks away from me, and I turn my gaze on Lissa and Dimitri.

"Get dressed," I tell them, my fist clenching and unclenching at my sides. "We're leaving as soon as the electricity shuts off."

…

The compound is eerily silent when the four of us slip out of Lissa's unit. Dimitri leads our group, his hair is pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and he is wearing the jet black military uniform he had been wearing during our escape. Lissa and Adrian follow close behind him, Adrian still in the clothes he had put on that morning, and Lissa in my investigators' uniform. I bring up the rear, dressed as a civilian. My arm has been secured across my chest with bandages to ensure that it won't get in the way or hinder my movement. It had been Dimitri's idea for Lissa and me to trade identities. I am obviously injured, and once we're past the stone walls of the compound, Lissa will make the more believable solider.

We move as quickly as we can through the darkness. For once, I am thankful for Tasha's strict bans on electricity, the only light comes from the stars and the crescent moon that hangs against the dark backdrop of the sky. The four us make it to the Resource Distribution Center without incident. Lissa reaches into one of the zippered pockets for her keys. I can just barely make out her features as she rummages through the jumpsuit. She freezes for a moment, and then yanks her hand out of the pocket as if she had touched a burning flame.

"What's wrong?" whispers Adrian.

"Nothing," she says, fussing with another pocket until she finally produces a set of keys.

She hands them over to Dimitri, and he unlocks the door and pushes it open without making a sound. We follow him into the building, its dank hallways are even darker than the night sky.

"Close your eyes," says Lissa.

We all do as she says and a few moments later I hear a soft clicking sound. I slit my eyes and find that Lissa is standing in front of a door, the tiny lantern I had given her raised above her head. The lantern bathes all of us in a soft glow and casts long shadows along the walls. Lissa opens the door to reveal a number of bags, a few boxes, and stacks of clothing. She hands out the clothing without a word. Before leaving, we had discussed what would happen once we were inside the RDC. We would each wear as much clothing as possible, partly to stay warm, and partly because we could only carry so much.

She stuffs as much as she can into the four knapsacks we had brought along and then hands one to each of us, and keeps the last one for herself. We all gather outside of the door, each person making sure that the other can carry their load.

"Okay," I breathe. "Remember what we talked about. The sacs go over first; we can pick them up once we're past the gate."

Lissa, Adrian, and Dimitri all nod their understanding, and then we vanish once more into the night.

This time, I lead the group from the RDC toward a spot at the back of the compound. One by one, we hurl the supplies over the wall. Had I been in possession of two functioning arms, I probably would have tried to hurl Adrian and Lissa over the walls too or at least made them climb up and over it. The only person among us who could manage the climb right now is Dimitri, and he had refused to abandon us.

So we are forced to creep along the compound's perimeter toward the creaking gate that guards its only entrance. I keep one hand on the wall to guide me, groping along in the darkness. We come to a halt twenty yards away from the gate, I can't tell for sure, but something feels wrong. There are no guards, no nothing. It's too easy.

I take a tentative step forward, and then all hell breaks loose.

Every light in the compound suddenly flares to life, and the bell that stands in the compounds center begins to toll. The light is blinding, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. The sound reverberates across the empty roads and paths of the compound.

I turn to look at the ashen faces of my companions, "Run!" I scream over the sound of the bell.

I begin running fast and hard toward the gate, the sound of footfalls from behind me lets me know that Lissa, Adrian, and Dimitri are close behind me. I see now that the guards had been there all along, lurking in the shadows of the walls. A group of compound guards jumps out to block our path, each of them brandishing a long nightstick.

"Freeze!" one of them yells.

I have a decision to make and only a split second to make it.

The rest of the group skids to a halt, but I don't stop, I run at full speed toward the nearest guard, throwing the full weight of my body against his. He staggers, but I have swept his legs out from underneath him with one low, arcing kick before he can recover. He tumbles to the ground, but I have already moved onto the next guard. He comes at me with his nightstick, but I evade the hit and deliver a swift punch with my good arm to his jaw. He lets out a throaty cry before resuming his attack. I bring my arm up to grip the back of his neck, yanking it downward until his forehead connects with my knee. He crumples to his knees just as another guard comes at me from behind.

His chest slams into my back, sending pain shooting through my shoulder. I fight through it, gritting my teeth. One arm moves to wrap around my throat and I grip it tightly. I use his own momentum against him, and I pull hard on his arm and manage to flip him over me. He lands on the ground with a thud and I can hear him gasping for air, the force of his fall having knocked the breath from his lungs.

All of this happens in a matter of seconds, and I turn to survey the situation. Lissa and Adrian are pressed against the gates, and Dimitri stands in front of them protectively, fending off two guards with nothing but his fists. In the distance, more guards are running toward us from the direction of the compound.

_There are too many. _

I run toward the caged box I had seen welded to the stone walls the first day I was here. A padlock dangles from it, but I don't bother with ceremony. I bust the cage open with a round house kick and the scraps of rusted metal fall to the ground. My palm slams against the button, and the gates begin to creak open.

Dimitri has managed to incapacitate one of the two guards, and Lissa and Adrian are watching him with wide, waiting eyes. My shoulder throbs with every beat of my heart, but I force the pain to the back of mind. I manage to sneak up behind the last guard, and I leap onto his back, my legs and good arm wrapping around him. My forearm is crushing his windpipe, and I pull back, using the weight of my body to drive the oxygen from his body.

"Go!" I yell over the guard's shoulder. "Get them out of here!"

The guard's fingers are prying at my arm, but they eventually fall away and I feel his body begin to waver. I unwind my legs from around his waist and he falls to the ground.

"I won't leave you," says Dimitri defiantly. The ceaseless tolling of the bell makes his words hard to discern.

"Yes, you will. We'll never make it to the jeep with them on our tail." I point to the advancing mass of guards.

Hesitation is etched all over Dimitri's face. He knows I'm right.

"Rose…" his voice trembles with the unspoken words and thoughts of his heart. He says something else, but his voice is drowned out by the shouts of the approaching guards.

"You're wasting time! GO!"

Dimitri turns and grabs Lissa by the wrist and begins dragging her through the open gate. Lissa, realizing what's happening, begins to struggle against his hold.

"No! What are you – Dimitri! We can't leave!" She jerks against him in desperate terror.

Even Adrian looks conflicted, but I turn my back on them before I lose my nerve.

"Rose!" Lissa screams, but her voice is further away now. "Rose, please!"

My fist slams against the button one last time, and the hinges let out another groan as the doors swing shut with a loud clang. I start to move away from the gate, knowing I won't stand a chance if they manage to pin me against the stone walls.

I can still hear Lissa screaming my name over the din, and despite the noise I can hear her fists beating on the hard metal of the gate. My heart clenches, the pain in my chest is almost enough to make me forget the deep burn radiating through my shoulder and down my arm. The bandages have started to come loose, and my damaged arm is held in place by only a few scraps of fabric. I keep my eyes focused on the guards, not realizing until that moment that even if I had been fighting at full strength, I still wouldn't stand a chance.

**Muhahaha.**

**I'm sorry, but I'm such a sucker for a good cliffhanger.**

**This was the first scene I had ever envisioned when I set out to write this story. I have been waiting to write it for what feels like forever. I really, really hope you guys liked it. Leave me a review, they give me life!**


	24. Chapter 24

_**Vasilisa – **_

My vision is tinged with black, and I'm fighting the urge to be sick, but I somehow manage to wrench my arm free of Dimitri's iron grasp and stumble toward the gates as fast as my legs can carry me, screaming as I go.

"Rose! Rose, stop!"

I can see her through the gap in the metal gates; the opening gets smaller with every step that I take. The world seems to be moving in slow motion, and even as I will myself to move faster, I know that it's already too late. Rose is swallowed up into the portcullis, disappearing from my sight as the gates come together with a clang.

I throw myself against the gates with as much force as I can muster but they don't budge. I try to shove my fingers into the seal, and when that doesn't work I claw at it, desperate to pry them apart. Pain shoots through my fingers and when I pull them away they're covered in blood.

"Rose!" I cry out, banging my fists against the door. "You can't do this! You can't leave me!"

My whole body is racked with pain, and I sink to my knees, my bloody palms sliding along the metal, staining it with red. The girl with the investigator's belt and the bad temper, the one who accosted me in a dark, dank hallway and threated to kill me, the same girl who would later save me and take care of me, the one who risked her career and her life to find her parents, who took a knife to the shoulder to bring Dimitri home, the girl who is learning to care and to be care for, is going to sacrifice herself.

"Rose!" her name tears through me and my throat feels raw. "It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair…"

I take a deep, shuttering breath and then my forehead comes to rest between my hands on the metal gate. The sound of fighting mixes with the tolling of the bell, but I can barely hear anything over the beating of my heart and the blood rushing in my ears. My eyes are open, but the only thing I can see is Rose. Rose giving me her lantern, Rose telling jokes in the embassy, Rose reassuring me that she would come back.

_Rose, Rose, Rose…_

I feel two strong arms wrap around my waist and then yank me to my feet. I move like a ragdoll, struggling feels pointless, and I allow myself to be dragged away from the compound. My captor comes to a halt fifty yards away from the gate and then spins me around so that I am face to face with Dimitri.

"Lissa," he says in a hoarse whisper. "Lissa, we have to go."

I stare at him blankly, his voice sounds far away, and I can't comprehend anything that he says.

He grips my shoulders and shakes me, trying desperately to get my attention. "Lissa, please! We can't stay here, Rose – "

My whole body tenses at the sound of her name. "You left her," I manage to choke out. "You left her there to die."

Dimitri's expression is warped with pain, but I feel no sympathy for him.

"After everything she has done for us – for you, you let her send us away!"

"Rose knew what she was doing," he whispers. "We didn't have a choice…"

"We always have a choice," I tell him coldly.

His hands fall away from me, "Adrian will be back with the supplies, and then we make for the jeep."

"That's it?" I want to scream, I want to beat my fists against his chest. "We run?"

"If we don't run, then we die," he thunders. "And Rose's sacrifice will have been for nothing. Is that what you want?"

I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. A figure emerges from the shadows just then, struggling to carry a number of bulky sacs. It's Adrian and when he reaches us, he is breathless and his knees are knocking together from the exertion. I don't say a word to either of them; instead I wrench one of the knapsacks from Adrian's arms, and start walking.

Before we had left the unit, Dimitri had described the location of where he'd hidden the jeep he'd stolen after he and Rose had escaped from the holding facility. I walk in the direction of the jeep, trying to focus on it, trying not to think of Rose. The world gets darker the further away from the compound I go, until I am blundering through the night in complete darkness. I fall several times, tripping over rocks and roots. Rose's jumpsuit is torn at the knees and stained with blood, but I hardly notice.

I can hear Adrian and Dimitri moving from somewhere behind me, but I refuse to look back. The bell has stopped ringing, but the lights of the compound can still be seen somewhere in the distance. We walk for half an hour before Dimitri calls out for me to stop. He and Adrian come up on either side of me, but each maintains their distance.

"We need the lantern," Dimitri tells me, his tone devoid of emotion.

I drop my knapsack on the ground and reach one hand into the pocket of Rose's jumpsuit, but instead of the lantern, my fingers brush something hard and metallic. I freeze, just as I had done earlier when I'd been searching for the keys to the RDC.

_Rose's gun. _

I grip its handle, this time finding an odd sort of comfort, when before I had only felt panic surge through me.

"Lissa," Dimitri calls again.

Using my other hand, I dig through the various pockets until I find the lantern. I hand it over to Dimitri without a word. He clicks the bottom and it flares to life. I shield my eyes with my forearm and squint into the darkness. We are standing at the edge of a densely wooded forest, most of the trees have shed their leaves for the winter and their bare branches reach into the sky like talons. Dimitri approaches one of the trees and runs his hands over the bark, then moves onto another tree and does the same thing.

He moves among the tree line, the light from the lantern bobbing up and down, casting wayward shadows across Adrian and me. Dimitri comes to a halt about 15 yards from where we stand, he turns and beckons for us to follow him. I grab the knapsack and then move to stand behind him, and see that he is running his fingers over a deep gash at the base of the tree's trunk.

"This way," he says, and then plunges into the forest.

Adrian and I follow Dimitri down a narrow trail for ten minutes, until we finally reach a clearing. Dimitri raises the lantern and points it in the direction of a massive vehicle that is parked at the edge of the clearing. Dimitri lets out a sigh of relief and then mutters something in Russian.

"You sound like you didn't think it would still be here," says Adrian flatly.

"I didn't" admits Dimitri, turning to face us.

Adrian strides over to the black jeep and begins sweeping dead leaves off of its hood. Dimitri turns his gaze on me, but I look away and walk over to where Adrian is now loading the supplies into the trunk.

"What now?" asks Adrian, taking my knapsack from my hands.

"Now?" asks Dimitri, raking his hand through his hair. "Now we go after Rose."

**This is short and probably not the update you were hoping for, I know, but it's very important that the next chapter be told from Rose's POV, and that I lay this little bit of background. Also, I did something dumb and accidentally replaced Chapter 22 with Chapter 23. Sorry about that, they're all fixed now. ALSO, the reviews on Chapter 23 were some of the sweetest, most inspiring things I've ever read. Thank you so much! I already love to write, but being able to share it with you guys makes it even better. **


	25. Chapter 25

_**Rose – **_

My heart is beating in time with Lissa's fists as they pound against the gate, and her cries cut through me like dull knives. I wish I could make her understand why I need to do this, and more than that, I wish I could tell Dimitri that I finally know what kind of person I am on the inside: I'm just like him.

_I don't want to die, but if I had to choose how it happened, I would choose dying to help the people I love._

I have struggled all of my life with my own identity. I was born the daughter of Janine and Ibrahim, but I was never given the chance to know the girl I might have been. I was raised a soldier, but the girl they molded me into has always been a stranger to me. This version of me is who I know I was always meant to be; loyal and strong and passionate, someone capable of loving and worthy of being loved. I only wished that her story would end differently.

Lissa's voice has disappeared from the noises that surround me, and I do my best to force out the rest and to focus on the task at hand. Every breath I take, every passing moment brings the approaching mass of guards closer. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins, but it's not enough to mask the pain, I feel it from the inside out. I reach across my chest and tear the remaining scraps of fabric away from my arm and shoulder, gritting my teeth as my arms falls to my side. I had bound it up earlier to protect it, not wanting to risk damaging it further. Now, I clench and unclench my fists, realizing that it probably doesn't matter any more.

The guards move to surround me. They wear the plane colored jumpsuits of NAAMA compound security; most of them are probably civilians with little combat training. On a good day, I probably could have taken on four, maybe five of them at once without breaking a sweat. My injury has drastically reduced my chances of success.

_There are too many._

About twenty or so guards have moved to surround me, each brandishing a standard issue nightstick. Most compound security units don't include this many guards, and my stomach sinks when I realize that it's because reinforcements were called in.

_They knew._

"Hathaway," calls a voice from the crowd. "Stand down."

I squint my eyes and scan the sea of khaki until I find Mikhail Tanner forcing his way to the front line.

I plant my feet firmly on the ground and assume a defensive position. "Investigators don't take orders from civilians," I tell him defiantly.

Mikhail's face hardens and he reaches into his pocket for a sheet of paper. He holds it up for a brief moment and I recognize the letterhead almost immediately.

"Rose Hathaway, acting on behalf of the Risk Prevention Department, I hereby strip you of your title, rank, and all privileges afforded to NAAMA soldiers," he reads from the paper. "Your final act as a NAAMA soldier will be to surrender your belt to the arresting authority, Mikhail Tanner, captain of the Provincial Compound Guard. You will be turned over to the Risk Prevention Department where you will face charges for treason, desertion, aiding and abetting a fugitive, murder in the first degree, and failure to uphold your duties as an Investigator." He glances up at me. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be. If you cooperate –"

"They'll kill me," I say, cutting him off. "Handing me over to the RPD is a death sentence, I know it, and you know it."

Hesitation flashes across his features before melting into complete neutrality. "You can't win this fight."

"I can try."

My training kicks in and I lunge at the nearest guard and begin fighting with a blind fury, throwing kicks and punches in every direction. The element of surprise is one of the few tools I have at my disposal. The rest of the guards move in on me almost immediately, and my mind barely has time to register each new threat as it appears. I begin cutting methodically through the guards one by one, leaving a trail of bodies in my wake, but there are always new guards to replace their fallen comrades.

After what feels like forever, my punches start to come slower, my kicks aren't as lethal, and my strength is weaning. My breathing is ragged, and my limbs feel as if they're made of lead, but my damaged arm is holding up surprisingly well. I bring my fist up and it collides with the jaw of the nearest guard, and I hear the sickening sound of his teeth shattering against the force of my blow. I pull back my arm, preparing to strike out at another guard. My execution is text book perfect, but the guard manages to dodge the hit at the last second. He steps to one side, and his arm darts out to intercept my wrist. He pulls down hard on my arm and twists, yanking it up at an awkward angle behind my back. The agony is instantaneous.

A hot wave of pain washes over me, and I feel my stitches rip apart. The edges of my vision are tinged with black, and it takes me a moment to realize that I'm screaming. The guard tugs on my arm and I feel my legs give out. He releases his hold on me and lets me fall to the ground with a thud. My arm lays bent at an unnatural angle beside me and I'm shivering uncontrollably.

_Get up, _I tell myself.

_Keep fighting!_

I try to rise from my knees but I'm forced down by a pair of hands. The compound lights are still blazing all around me, and I can see the shadow of my assailant moving behind me. He seems to move in slow motion, and I watch helplessly as the shadow raises its nightstick into the air, and then brings it down, connecting with the base of my skull.

…

The first of my senses to return is my taste. My tongue feels like it's coated with a thick, bitter substance, and it sticks to the roof of my mouth. My sense of smell comes next; the air is filled with the metallic scent of blood and it makes me sick to my stomach. I am blind and deaf and choking on air. I feel my lungs expand in my chest as I try to take a breath, but even that small movement sends pain rippling through me. It moves beneath my skin in all directions, all the way to the tips of my fingers which I find are secured above my head. I focus on my body, trying to become more aware of my surroundings. I am mindful enough to figure out that I am hanging by my arms. There are thick, braided ropes wrapped around my wrists, which are supporting most of weight. My injured arm feels swollen and the pain radiating from it makes me wish I would just pass out.

Low murmurs eventually drift into my consciousness, but I can't tell one voice from the other. My pulse quickens at the sound of footsteps, and then the sound of metal sliding against metal. Suddenly, I am drenched in freezing cold water and the shock forces my lids to fly open. My vision is blurry, but I can see well enough to take in the figure looming in front of me.

"Rosemarie."

I recognize the voice instantly, and it jolts me into a more alert state.

"Victor," I manage to choke out. "I was really hoping that you were dead."

I can see him more clearly now, he looks the same as ever - green eyes and black hair streaked with gray, only now he is thinner, more frail looking. His skin is stretched over his cheekbones, which are more defined and his eyes are sunken and hollow.

Victor ignores my comment and purses his lips, "I hope you won't mind my saying, but you do not look well, Rosemarie." He places his hands behind his back thoughtfully and then begins circling me.

"I still look better than you," I tell him with a sneer.

Victor has disappeared behind me, and I take his momentary silence as an opportunity to check out my surroundings. The universe must have a sick sense of humor because it doesn't take me long to realize that I am in the exact cell Dimitri had been held in after I had arrested him. I try to tilt my head backward to inspect my bonds, but the only thing I can see is the rafter from which I'm hanging.

"You would think," says Victor, stepping back into my line of sight, "That someone in your present state would be more agreeable."

I crane my neck forward, bringing my face as close to Victor as possible. "If you came here to watch me beg then you've got another fu-"

"I came here to make a deal," he interjects.

I know better than to listen to anything Victor has to say, if given the chance, he will try to manipulate me, to use me, and I refuse to let that happen.

My resolve hardens into steel, "Get. Out." I pour every ounce of malice I can muster into those two words.

The corners of Victor's mouth pull up into a wicked grin. "Are you going to make me?"

My fingers move to wrap around the ropes, trying to redistribute some of my weight, my shoulder screams out in pain, begging me to stop, but instead I force my abdominals to contract and I bring my right leg up until it connects with the side of Victor's face. He staggers back, his hands cradling his injured jaw.

"You stupid bitch," he says, spitting out blood. "You will regret that."

I offer up a wicked smile of my own. "Are you going to make me?"

Victor takes a step to the side, placing himself out of kicking range. "I could," he says, straightening himself out, "But I think that you will come to regret the decisions that led to this moment without my assistance. Now, as I was saying, I've come to offer you a deal."

"I'd rather die," I tell him through gritted teeth.

Victor starts examining his cuticles, feigning boredom. "That can be arranged," he says without looking at me, "But we both know that's not what you want."

"What do you know about what I want?"

"I know that you still want to find your parents," he says, finally locking his gaze on mine. "I know that despite your empty threats, you want to live."

I let out a low, humorless laugh. "You overestimate how much I value my own life."

"What about the value of Vasilisa's life? Of Dimitri's?"

The mention of Lissa and Dimitri is like a dagger to my heart. "You won't hurt them."

"I won't," he says flatly. "But the RPD will if they're caught."

The dagger twists. "What do you want?"

"Tell me where they're going. Tell me so that I can help them. Tell me, and I will make sure that the Provincial Guard doesn't turn you over to the RPD."

Lissa, Dimitri, and Adrian are better off trying to evade the RPD than trying to evade Victor.

"I'm not telling you anything, let the RPD have me," I tell him defiantly.

Victor moves to stand behind me, careful to stay out of the reach of my boot. "Now, now, Rosemarie, don't be hasty. I was perfectly willing to play nice, but I'm afraid I'm on a time crunch here. Where are they?"

I respond with silence.

Victor let's out a sigh, "I'm afraid you've left me with no other choice." He yanks on my shirt and I hear the fabric rip apart, exposing my back. "Where are they?"

I clench my teeth together; bracing myself for what I know is coming and respond with more silence.

Victor presses against the torn skin of my shoulder with the tips of two of his fingers and pain explodes behind my eyes. My back arches and my whole body spasms, trying to pull away from him. I squeeze my lids shut, trying desperately not to scream.

"Where are they?"

When I don't answer, Victor digs his fingers into the wound, and I feel tears escape my eyes, falling freely down my cheeks, carving little paths through the dirt and grime as they go. I try to focus on Dimitri, on anything other than the pain. Trying to hold onto his image is like trying to hold water in the palm of my hand, no matter how hard I try; he always slips away from me.

"Where are they?" he asks again, more desperately this time.

I can feel myself start to fade, and I welcome it. Victor presses harder; digging deeper, forcing me to cry out. My screams bring the sound of footsteps, and somewhere around me, there are people speaking in harsh whispers. I pry my lids open and see that Mikhail is standing in front of me, looking horrified.

"Victor," he growls. "What do you think you're doing? I did not agree to help you so that you could torture this girl! She's a ward of the RPD, our orders are to hand her over, not kill her!"

"I'm well aware of our agreement, it seems that you are the one who has forgotten the terms, or is it no longer your desire to find Sonya?" Victor's tone is threatening, and Mikhail's expression darkens at the mention of his fiancé.

"I get it now," I whisper. "Victor came to you, didn't he? What did he promise you? Did he tell you that if you helped the RPD catch me, they would give Sonya back?"

Mikhail regards me carefully, "What do you know about Sonya?"

"Nothing," I tell him warily, "But I do know about the Investigators, and they don't make deals. Victor lied to you."

"Don't listen to her," snaps Victor from behind me. "She's one of them, a trained liar and a murderer. She betrayed her own people."

Mikhail's gaze darts between Victor and me, looking confused. "Our orders were clear. We arrest the fugitives and deliver them to the RPD," he finally says, sounding exhausted.

I can see the struggle written all over his face, he is torn between his duty to NAAMA and his desire to find Sonya. He is torn between placing his trust in Victor and choosing to believe me. I already know what he thinks of me though, I may have been formally stripped of my title, but he still sees an investigator when he looks at me.

"We're leaving in ten minutes," Mikhail says, his eyes focusing on Victor. "You should come with me."

Victor moves in front of me and says in a low whisper, "We aren't finished here."

…  
It takes four guards to get me into the jeep, though it's mostly because I can't walk on my own. My arms are secured in front of me by heavy iron manacles, and my shoulder has been wrapped up with bandages; my damaged arm has been rendered completely immobile. I sit between two guards in the middle row of the jeep. Mikhail is driving and Victor is sitting in the passenger seat where he casts cruel glances over his shoulder at me.

The jeep travels down the dirt roads out of the compound, and I find myself scanning the horizons, searching for any sign of Lissa and Dimitri. A part of me is scared they're already long gone, and another part of me is scared that they aren't. The journey to the Havens will be a long and dangerous one, but I have to believe that they can make it. The idea that they are somewhere out there; living, is the only thing anchoring me to this world.

"Mikhail," I say after only a few miles on the road. "I'm not the person you should be arresting; Victor is still wanted by the RPD."

"On the contrary, Rosemarie, the RPD has decided to grant me leniency. They are far more interested in you and Dimitri," says Victor, staring at me through the rearview mirror.

"Is that what they told you?" I ask incredulously. "How many times do I have to tell you people? Investigators don't cut deals – with anyone. They'll probably take you into custody as soon as they look at you."

"We shall see," says Victor coldly.

"You're an idiot if you think – "

My words are cut off by the roaring of an engine. I look out the window to my right just in time to see two head lights and by that time, it's too late to yell out a warning. Another vehicle collides with the side of ours, filling the air with the sound of crunching metal and squealing tires. Mikhail grips the steering wheel as tightly as he can, but he can't keep the jeep from spinning out. The jeep skids to a stop and everyone's eyes are darting around, searching for the other vehicle. Mikhail turns the keys in the ignition, and the engine spins and then sputters out. He curses, and then he and the other guards leap out of the jeep to assess the threat. Victor is pulling at his door desperately, but it's damaged and won't budge.

Stars are dancing in front of my eyes, and my whole body aches worse than before from the force of the impact. Shouts coming from outside of the jeep are the only thing keeping me focused. I drag myself toward the car door, weighed down by my arm and the handcuffs, but I manage to pull the handle and push it open. I try to swing my legs around, but I'm so weak that I end up tumbling out of the side of the jeep and onto the hard ground. Beneath the jeep I can see nothing but legs on the other side, dancing around each other in the tell tale pattern of a fight.

"Rose!" I hear a voice cry out.

I roll over onto my back and see Lissa standing over me. The sun is rising behind her and for a brief moment I'm convinced that I died in the car accident, and she is an angel, come to deliver me.

She drops to her knees beside me, "Rose, can you walk?"

I force myself into a sitting position with the help of Lissa. "What are you doing here?" I gasp in horror. "You shouldn't be here!"

"We have to go," she says pulling on my arms, trying to help me to my feet, but it's too much for either of us, and we collapse back onto the ground.

"I'll be right back!" she says, and bolts back around the jeep before I can protest.

I swing my legs around and pull my knees underneath me, preparing to crawl, when I feel a fist wind itself in my hair. I am yanked upward, my arms still bound in front of me, and I feel something sharp and cold come to rest at my throat.

"Not so fast," Victor hisses into my ear.

"NO!" Lissa's scream grabs both mine and Victor's attention.

She is standing ten feet away from us, Adrian and Dimitri are on either side of her. Each of them is bruised and bloody but still breathing.

"Victor, stop!" Lissa pleads.

Dimitri moves toward me, but Victor shakes his head, and the knife presses into the hollow of my neck, drawing blood. "That's close enough," he shouts. "Vasilisa, you have let this girl feed you lies, she has poisoned you against me. It's time to see reason."

Lissa's eyes narrow at him. "I have seen reason," she says, her tone acid. "Now let her go."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," says Victor calmly. "I don't want to do this, but I will if I have to."  
Lissa reaches her hand into the pocket of her jumpsuit and pulls out something black and shiny, then aims it at Victor. Dimitri and Adrian pale beside her and stand frozen in their tracks.

"Let. Her. Go," says Lissa through gritted teeth.

"You aren't going to shoot me," says Victor, and despite the confidence of his words, his voice is trembling.

"I'm not going to tell you again," says Lissa, taking a step toward Victor. "Let her go."

The knife bites in deeper and I close my eyes, waiting for it to finally be over. Then I hear a series of sounds, my own heartbeat, Lissa's steady breathing, and the sound of a gunshot, ringing through the air.

**Hi okay, don't hate me. Also, don't hate Mikhail, I swear he isn't a bad guy, just confused and a little desperate. The reviews for the last two chapters were absolutely incredible, and they inspired me to get this update ready as soon as I could. That being said, I will never update for the sake of updating. I want to tell the right story, and sometimes that means taking a little extra time to get it the way I want it. Only a few more chapters left!**


	26. Chapter 26

_**Vasilisa – **_

_For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. _

In that moment, with Rose's gun still pointed at Victor, and smoke pouring out of its barrel, I learn that Newton's Third Law of Motion also applies to firearms when the kickback from the gun causes me to stagger backward a few paces.

When I was nine, Victor made me memorize all of Newton's Laws. For months, the first question he would ask me when he came home from work was how Newton's Laws had applied to something I had done at school earlier that day. I would always make up long-winded tales about giant items falling out of the sky, or how Adrian had pushed me on the tire swing and I'd gone all the way to the moon. Victor had never chastised me for being silly though, he would smile, his green eyes twinkling and ask – _"And then what happened?"_

What happens next is a blur. Victor is still standing behind Rose with a look of betrayal and horror etched permanently onto his face. The knife that had been pressed against the hollow of Rose's throat only moments earlier now lies in the grass beside them. I stare back at Victor with a mixture of relief and confusion; I had pulled the trigger, the gun had gone off, but there is no blood – no one is hurt. Rose doesn't waste any time with being surprised by the turn of events though, and instead of looking dumbstruck like the rest of us, she whirls around with both shackled fists and rakes them across Victor's face.

He crumples to the ground without a sound and Rose collapses to her knees beside him. Victor doesn't move, but I watch as Rose wavers back and forth, unsteady even on her knees. Dimitri barely has enough time to rush forward to catch Rose as she collapses. He swings her up into his arms and cradles her protectively against his chest. I watch as he whispers something into her ear and then buries his face in the crook of her neck.

Victor is completely still, but before I can take a step toward him, a hand on my shoulder sends a wave of shock through my body, and I spin around with the gun still clutched between my trembling hands.

"Watch it!" cries Adrian, both arms held up as if he were surrendering to me. "You're going to put somebody's eye out with that thing!"

Still shaking, I lower the gun in front of me. My chest is rising and falling rapidly and I can feel my eyes darting around, waiting for something else to go wrong.

Adrian, sensing my unease, places both hands on my shoulders and fixes me with a steady gaze. "It's over," he says calmly. "We did it."

"We're not out of the woods yet," I say, shrugging away from him. I turn my head to glance over my shoulder and see that Victor hasn't moved, but Rose and Dimitri are gone. "We need to get as far away from the compound as possible, as quickly as possible."

Adrian's eyes flick to Victor then back to me and he nods. Together we walk back to the other side of the jeep. The vehicle Rose and Victor had been traveling in has been reduced to a steaming pile of twisted metal. I don't know much about automobiles, but I know enough to be able to tell that it won't be running any time soon. The frame of the other jeep is bent and the windshield had shattered upon impact, but as I round the corner of the wreckage, I see that it is still running.

Dimitri is sitting in the backseat of the jeep and when I approach the window I see that Rose is stretched out across the bench, lying on her side with her head in Dimitri's lap. I tuck the gun back into my pocket and tap on the window to get Dimitri's attention. He rolls the window down slowly, careful not to disturb Rose.

"How is she?" I whisper.

He looks down at her and runs his hand through her hair, pushing a lock of it out of her face. "Alive," he says bleakly.

I lean in through the window to get a better look at her. The lids of her eyes are purple and sealed shut and her skin is ashen except for where it is covered with splotchy bruises. The gray tunic she had been wearing is torn in some places and is more red than gray. Dimitri pushes her tangled hair all the way to one side, revealing her injured shoulder and I feel the blood drain from my face. It's covered with bandages, but they're dirty and soaked through completely with blood. Whatever progress Rose had made has been set back exponentially.

"We need to get somewhere safe," I say quickly, pulling away from the jeep.

I turn on my heel and run immediately into Adrian, but don't bother apologizing. "Do you think you can drive?" I ask quickly.

Adrian blinks back his surprise and then stammers out a response. "Drive? Are you kidding? I don't know how to drive. Why can't Dimitri do it?" He cranes his neck over my shoulder to get a better look at Dimitri and Rose. "Oh, I see, he's busy playing nurse."

"Adrian," I snap. "Focus, we won't make it the Havens with only one driver, we're all going to need to learn at some point."

"Right," agrees Adrian, "But learning to drive in the middle of a daring getaway doesn't really seem like a very good idea to me. You're welcome to give it a try though."

I pinch the bridge of my nose in exasperation. "You're right," I admit, though it pains me to do so.

"Thank you. Also, I hate to be the bearer of bad news here, but do any of us, besides Rose of course, actually know how to get to Tallahassee?"

Adrian, Dimitri, and I all have some basic knowledge of how the former United States of America had been organized before the Pulse thanks to Victor, but our plan to get to the Havens mostly hinges on Rose's navigation skills, and what she had learned about geography at the Academy. I chew on my lip as I contemplate our options, but before I can tell Adrian that the only thing that matters right now is getting away from the compound, a voice calls out from somewhere behind me.

"I can get you there," it rasps.

Adrian and I whirl around, my hand hovering over the gun in my pocket. Mikhail, captain of the Provincial Guard, is getting slowly to his feet, dusting off his jumpsuit. Dimitri and Adrian had dispatched Mikhail and the other guards without too much difficulty, mostly because they were distracted by the fact that they had just been in a car accident. The other guards are still lying on the ground by Mikhail, and one of them stirs at the sound of his voice.

"You can do what?" asks Adrian in disbelief.

Mikhail takes a step toward us, and without hesitation, I pull out the gun and aim it at him.

_He doesn't know what a bad shot I am, _I think to myself.

Mikhail freezes. "Don't shoot. Just let me explain."

"You have ten seconds," I tell him icily.

"You said you were going to the Havens, right?" asks Mikhail. "I want to come with you. I know how to drive and I can get you to the Southeastern Province."

Adrian leans in close to me and whispers in my ear. "Bad idea. He'll take us straight to the Risk Prevention Department, and we won't even be able to tell until we get there."

"Why should we trust you?" I ask bitterly. "You took Rose."

"Vasilisa," says Mikhail. "I didn't understand what was going on. Victor came to me and told me that she was trying to kidnap you, that she was planning to take you out of the compound. The RPD has had a price on her head for a week now, and Victor told me that arresting her would be killing two birds with one stone – I would be saving you, and I would get in good with the RPD. He told me – "

"I don't care what he told you," I say, shaking my head. "Victor is a liar."

"I didn't know," he says pleadingly "You have to believe me."

"Even if I did believe you, that doesn't explain why all of the sudden you want to drive us across the country."

"Perhaps he feels bad?" offers Adrian, and I immediately shoot him a quelling look.

"If…when, the Risk Prevention Department learns that I let Rose and the rest of you escape, I'm as good as dead," Mikhail says in dismay. "Let me come with you to the Havens."

"We're not even sure the Havens actually exist," I remind him.

"I like my chances," says Mikhail quickly.

Realizing that we have already wasted too much time talking, I gesture toward the driver's seat of the jeep with the barrel of my gun. "Get in."

It takes Mikhail a moment to register what I've said, but he nods and then starts walking toward the jeep.

"Lissa," hisses Adrian. "Are you sure about this?"

I wait until Mikhail has shut the car door before holstering the gun. "No," I tell him, "But I don't really see another way."

Adrian glances at the other guards and then back at me. "What do you want to do about Victor?"

My chest constricts at the mention of Victor, and I hear the sound of a gunshot echoing through my mind. "Leave him, but check the other jeep for supplies."

Adrian studies me for a moment, but decides not to say anything. I turn and climb into the jeep through the passenger's side door and scoot all the way to the middle of the bench beside Mikhail who glances at me nervously.

Adrian climbs in next to me a few moments later. "Found a few spare gas cans," he says, pulling the door shut behind him. "Of course, they were all empty," he mutters to no one in particular.

"Lissa," says Dimitri, clearing his throat.

I turn around to face him, and I see that his eyes are narrowed at Mikhail. "Do you have a better idea?" I ask, already knowing what he had been about to say.

"I guess not," he admits.

From the front seat, I can see Rose's injuries more clearly and I feel bile beginning to rise in the back of my throat. I turn back around, swallowing hard. "Drive fast."

…

"Do you even know where you're going?" Adrian asks Mikhail a few hours later.

Mikhail frowns but doesn't take his eyes off of the road. "There's an abandoned compound a few hundred miles from ours. We should be safe there for the night."

"Abandoned compound?" asks Adrian incredulously. "Is that the code name for your meeting place with the Risk Prevention Department?"

"Adrian," I groan.

"What?" he asks defensively. "Have you ever heard of an _abandoned_ compound? Seems awfully convenient to me."

Adrian is right for the second time today. "Executor Ozera doesn't seem like the type of ruler to let an entire compound go to waste," I say to Mikhail. "Why was it abandoned?"

Mikhail hesitates before answering. "I guess abandoned isn't the most accurate way to describe what happened.

"How would you describe it then?" I ask my heart beginning to race.

"The teachers there strayed from the NAAMA approved curriculum," says Mikhail, grimacing. "The students were learning about electrical currents when they were reported to the RPD by a Provincial Guard. The Investigator assigned to the case made a call…in the report he stated that most of the civilians in the compound knew too much…"

"And we all know what happens to people who know too much," says Adrian bitterly.

"What _did_ happen?" I whisper.

Mikhail shifts uneasily in his seat. "They were killed, all of them."

…

The sun is sinking low in the horizon when the jeep rolls up to the crumbling stone walls of the compound Mikhail had told us about. It looks similar to the one we had just fled, but as the jeep passes beneath what was once the gate, the compound begins to feel less like a small town, and more like a graveyard.

"How long has it been since anyone lived here?" asks Dimitri, speaking for the first time since we had started our journey.

"Nine, maybe ten years," says Mikhail, parking the jeep in front of a dilapidated looking concrete building. "This used to the Embassy building."

"How do you know so much?" asks Adrian.

There is a faraway look on Mikhail's face as he answers. "Some of the other guards took me here when I joined the Provincial Guard; they wanted me to see what would happen if we didn't keep the civilians in line."

"That's quite the bonding experience," says Adrian when no one else knows how to respond.

"We don't have time for stories," interjects Dimitri. "We need to get Rose inside."

"Right," I say, twisting around in my seat to look at him. "Adrian and I will grab the supplies and start setting up a room in the Embassy."

"What should I do?" asks Mikhail.

"Help me get her out of the car," says Dimitri, nodding toward Rose.

Adrian and I scramble out of the jeep and begin grabbing the knapsacks from the trunk while Mikhail and Dimitri try to maneuver Rose out of the backseat without hurting her. Adrian and I carry what we can toward the Embassy. The wooden doors creak open to reveal a dark lobby area. The windows are boarded up, but little shafts of light pass through the cracks, illuminating the dusty concrete floor. Using the lantern to guide us, Adrian and I make our way down the first corridor we come across. Most of the rooms are completely empty, but on our fourth try, we find one with a bed pushed up against the far wall and a small table. I set the lantern down on the table and drag it over to the bed.

Adrian drops his bags on the floor. "I'll go tell the others."

I wave him away and begin pulling out the supplies I'll need to take care of Rose. A feeling of déjà vu washes over me as I pour a saline solution into a metal bowl, and alcohol into another. Something tells me that this will not be the last time I need to stitch up one of my friends.

A very angry looking Rose stumbles into the room a few minutes later, with Dimitri, Mikhail, and Adrian following close behind her.

"Rose!" I cry out, rushing forward to take her arm. "What are you doing?"

"Turns out," says Adrian, craning his neck to try and see past the 6'4" Russian in front of him. "That she doesn't really like being carried."

"I'm fine," she mutters to me even as she sags against me.

"No, you're not," says Dimitri, moving forward to take her other arm, "But you are very stubborn."

Her head rolls around and she lifts her eyes toward Dimitri, smiling sheepishly. "Thank you for noticing."

The corners of Dimitri's mouth twitch upward for a moment. "You're welcome."

I clear my throat and then together, Dimitri and I lead Rose to the bed. We ease her down onto it so that she is lying on her stomach. Dimitri leans against the wall and then sinks onto the floor beside her so that they are eyelevel with each other. He mutters something to her in Russian and she giggles. It's clear that the blood loss is beginning to affect her, because I hadn't known that Rose Hathaway _could_ giggle until now.

"Do you need anything else?" asks Mikhail.

"Maybe try and round up a few more beds?" I suggest.

"What about me?" asks Adrian.

"You can be my assistant."

"What exactly does that entail?" he asks, raising one eyebrow.

"Start by removing those," I say, pointing to the soiled bandages wrapped around Rose's shoulder.

Adrian's face lights up, but his excitement dissipates when he gets closer and notices all the blood and grime. I pour a bottle of water over a rag and then move toward Rose and begin cleaning the skin as Adrian peels the layers of bandages away. Rose begins to squirm the closer I get to her freshly opened wound. Her flesh is mangled and torn, and it looks larger than it had the first time I had dressed it. Adrian and I exchange concerned looks, and I hand him the now bloodied rag.

I fill the turkey baster with the saline solution. "Rose, this is probably going to hurt."

"Whatever," she mutters. "I've had worse."

Looking down at the array of angry white scars that cover her back, I realize that she is probably telling the truth. I begin irritating the wound and Rose cries out almost immediately.

"Motherfu –" instead of finishing her sentence, she clamps her mouth shut and buries her face in the mattress.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, I'm almost done," I tell her, refilling the baster and repeating the process. "Someone tell her a story," I say, my eyes darting between Dimitri and Adrian. "Distract her!"

"I was the only boy in my family," starts Dimitri, "In a house full of girls. When I was very young I would always try to play with my sister and her friends."

I fill the baster with the alcohol and flush it out again. Rose tenses, and Dimitri grabs her hand and squeezes it between his.

"They would try and send me away, they didn't want me around, but I begged them to let me play with them."

I move on to the more arduous task of stitching the skin together, but Rose seems to be concentrating on Dimitri for the moment.

"Finally, Karolina agreed to let me play with them, but under one condition."

"This should be good," Rose says under her breath.

"I had to agree to be married off to their dolls. They dressed me up over and over again for different weddings. I must have been married at least ten different times."

Rose lets out a breathy laugh and listens as Dimitri continues to tell her story after story about his childhood in Russia, allowing me to sew her up without too much interference. When I finish, I wrap her shoulder up with fresh bandages and tell her to get some rest. Dimitri remains by her side, ever-vigilante, and Adrian and I decide to let them be alone.

I close the door softly behind me. "You should probably get some rest too," I tell Adrian.

He leans against the wall of the corridor with his arms folded in front of him. "That was weird," he says, ignoring my suggestion.

I can barely make out his features in the dim light of the Embassy. "What was weird?"

"That," he says, nodding toward the door we had just come out of. "Dimitri and Rose."

I had noticed something different about the way Rose and Dimitri interacted with each other from the moment they had returned from the holding facility, but had decided not to ask questions. At first, Dimitri hadn't trusted Rose, and she had kept her distance. Now they regard each other with a fierce protectiveness, they take care of each other, and during hard times – times like right now, that is a rare thing to come by.

"They've been through a lot," I tell Adrian in a small voice.

"So have you," Adrian says, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Get some rest," I tell him again. "I have a feeling we're going to need it."

**Ahh! So I was worried that my last A/N came across as ungrateful, I LOVE that you guys are invested to the point where you ask for updates, it's seriously one of the coolest and most humbling things ever. I just wanted to explain why sometimes I update daily and other times weekly. Also, there are two chapters left after this one, but it's just part one of a trilogy, the next story will be called **_**Haven**_**. **


	27. Chapter 27

_**Rose – **_

There is a state between dreaming and waking, a plane of existence where the innermost secrets of your heart and mind can be observed. Desires become a tangible thing you can touch, and everything you've ever wanted can be yours. In dreams we can find inspiration or an escape, we can cultivate ideas and explore the road not taken – and that makes dreaming dangerous.

There was a time when the Academies had tried to prevent its students from dreaming and decided to experiment with our sleep cycles. We were forced to remain awake for days at a time before we were finally allowed to sleep. The theory was that our bodies would bypass the early stages of sleep and we would fall directly into delta sleep, where dreaming is less likely to occur. The results were disastrous; students slept during their classes, even our instructors became more prone to taking naps while on duty, and everyone lived in a perpetual state of irritability.

Despite the massive failings of the Academy, I still find that I hardly ever dream, but the night following our escape from the compound – I do. I know it's a dream because my mother is standing in front of me. She is pulling something out of an oven, and when she opens the metal door smoke pours out of it. She curses, but only because she doesn't know I can hear her.

"Mom," I whisper.

She looks at me through the strands of red hair that have fallen in front of her eyes and scowls. "Well don't just stand there lurking in the shadows, come help me. He'll be here any moment." She turns away from the oven holding a charred looking roast between her mitted hands and kicks the door shut with her heel.

I want to ask her who _he_ is, but my throat feels like it's been sealed shut. I take a step toward her and into the brightly lit kitchen. The appliances are sleek and modern, and most of them I have only ever seen in pictures and slideshows. There are lacy curtains hanging in front of a window that overlooks a lake. The air is filled with smoke and the smell of something burning, and a few moments later a smoke alarm starts going off.

"Janine!" a thickly accented voice calls from behind me. "Open a window!"

I whip my head around and see a man dressed in an outlandish suit gliding down a set of stairs toward me. "Rosemarie," he says with a smile. "Won't he be impressed? I can always tell how good your mother's cooking will be based on the number of times the smoke alarm goes off. How many times is that, three? Dinner shall be divine!"

"I can hear you!" my mother shouts from the kitchen. "And I'll kill you!"

My father laughs, and it's a deep rumbling sound that makes my heart ache. "She's right, you know," he says leaning in to whisper in my ear. "All we have to do is eat whatever it is she's making in there."

He plants a kiss on my cheek and then strides into the kitchen muttering something in a language I can't understand. I bring my hand up and touch the side of my face, marveling in the scene unfolding in front of me. My mother, looking frustrated as she pulls off the blackened skin of the roast, trying to salvage it, and my father watching her with a look of amusement on his face, but there is also love in his dark eyes, so much love.

A knock at the door causes the three of us to jump in unison, but I keep my eyes locked on my parents, scared that if I blink they will disappear.

"Finally," says my father with a knowing glint in his eyes. "I was beginning to think you made up this mysterious boyfriend of yours!"

"Don't be rude, Rosemarie," my mother chastises. "Answer the door."

Without being consciously aware of my own body's decision to move, I feel myself begin to move out of the kitchen and into a paneled foyer. I'm standing in front of a gilded door with brilliantly colored stained glass set into it. I reach out and turn the brass knob and pull it open slowly, not sure of what I'll find.

My heart leaps into my throat when I pull the door all the way open. Dimitri is standing in front of me, wearing a suit and clutching a bouquet of flowers in his hand so tightly that his knuckles have turned white. He is staring down at his feet, fidgeting nervously, but he snaps his head up at the sound of the door opening.

"Rose," he says letting out a sigh of relief. "Does your mother like tulips?"

I don't answer; I'm too busy staring at him. His hair is tied back at the nape of his neck and his cheeks are flushed in a way I have never seem them before. He is so beautiful. He takes a step toward me and places one hand on my cheek, and I press myself into his palm.

"Why are you crying?" he asks, his eyes wide with concern. "Rose?"

I don't remember crying, but I realize that he is right, and my face is wet with tears.

"Rose, Rose, wake up."

The voice is still Dimitri's, but when my eyelids flutter open, I find that we are no longer standing on the front steps of my parent's home.

_None of it was real._

"Are you in pain?" he asks, kneeling in front of me. "Is it your shoulder?"

My back is throbbing and I'm terribly weak, but I want to tell him that the pain in my shoulder is nothing compared to the pain in my heart. Tears are still tracing patterns down my cheeks as they fall from my eyes and then onto the bare mattress. I can still hear my father's laughter, feel where he kissed my cheek, and smell my mother's cooking. I feel like my brain has been riddled with tiny holes where memories of parents should have been.

"No," I gasp. "It's not my shoulder." I use my good arm to force myself up into a sitting position. The world is spinning around me and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting.

"Then what's wrong?" Dimitri asks.

I had seen the life I could have had, the life that had ripped away from me by the Pulse. "I was dreaming," I whisper.

"It was only a dream," he says tenderly, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "It wasn't real."

My lower lip is trembling. "I know."

_That's why it hurts._

"I'm going to go get Lissa," he says, rising to his feet. "She might have something that will help you sleep."

"No," I say, reaching out with my good arm to take his wrist before he can turn away. "Just…just stay here with me, please."

Dimitri looks down at me, his expression pained. His eyes search mine, and then after a few moments of contemplation he sits down next to me on the mattress. There is a strange tension radiating between us, filled with unspoken words and buried feelings. Back at the compound, I had convinced myself that our kiss had been a mistake, that neither of us can afford to deal with our feelings for the other, and that each of us is better off living an uncomplicated existence. But when I look at him now, I realize that our lives are already complicated, and that forcing ourselves to pretend that we don't care about each other won't untangle them.

"Can I tell you something?" I finally gather the courage to say.

He chuckles under his breath, "We both know you're going to tell me regardless of how I answer that question."

I try to laugh, but I'm too nervous. "Fair enough."

"But yes," he says, running a hand through his hair. "You can talk to me about anything."

My heart is hammering against my ribs, and I worry for a moment that he can hear it. I feel ridiculous when I think about how I have faced down foes much more daunting than my own feelings, but still can't manage to express them.

"I…I care about you," I stammer out.

_Nice one, Rose, very articulate. _

"I care about you too," says Dimitri.

"No," I say forcefully. "I mean I really _care_ about you. I…I find myself caring about what you think, I'm always staring at you, I want to protect you, and I…" my cheeks are burning with embarrassment. "And I am really bad at this."

I peer at Dimitri out of the corner of my eyes and see that there is a massive grin plastered across his face and his shoulders are moving up and down.

"Are you laughing at me?" I ask, mildly flustered.

"I'm sorry," he says, stifling his laughter. "It's just…you're so good at everything else."

I want to curl up into myself and disappear. "Never mind," I groan.

Dimitri suddenly goes very still, and he fixes me with a serious gaze. "Rose, I know we never talked about what happened between us."

My whole body tenses and I tear my eyes away from his. "We don't have to."

"Yes," he says firmly, "We do." He places the tips of his fingers beneath my chin and tilts my face toward his. "I didn't regret what we did, I still don't. But everything became so…" he pauses, searching for the right word.

"Complicated?" I offer.

"Yes," he agrees. "Everything was happening so quickly, and I found that I couldn't concentrate on anything except you."

"So you pushed me away," I say, not asking a question, but stating a fact.

"I thought it would be easier that way."

"I used to think the same thing."

"Used to?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "What's changed?"

_Here goes nothing. _

"Everything has changed. The world has been turned upside down and I don't know what to believe, I don't know who to trust, or what's right and what's wrong. It turns out, I don't know nearly as much as I thought I did." I take a breath and switch gears. "We're all caught up in this storm, except we aren't battling the elements; we're taking on oppression and fighting for our lives, but I used to worry that my life isn't worth fighting for."

"Rose…" interjects Dimitri.

"Just wait," I tell him. "What I'm trying to say…is that the only life I want to fight for is one that I share with you, and with Lissa. Maybe we find the Havens, maybe we don't, but I don't think it will matter to me one way or another. I think that maybe, the Havens aren't a place, but a feeling you get when you find the people who make you feel safe. You are my Haven."

Dimitri doesn't speak; instead he stares at me with shining eyes, his mouth open slightly.

"Say something," I beg. "Anything."

"I was wrong," he says quietly. "You are good at everything."

And then his mouth is on mine and any response that I might have had falls to the back of my mind. There is no pain; there is only Dimitri and his hands as they entwine themselves in my hair, his tongue moving against mine, and the way the muscles of his jaw feel cupped between my hands.

"Glad you're both awake," chimes a sarcastic voice from the doorway.

Dimitri and I don't fly apart the way we had when Victor had walked in on us, instead he pulls away only slightly and I can feel his mouth smiling against mine.

Adrian clears his throat, "Breakfast is ready, but I will happily eat both of your potatoes if you two would prefer to stay here and eat each others faces."

I turn my face toward Adrian who is leaning against the doorframe and give him a withering stare, "Don't touch my potato."

"You don't scare me," says Adrian with a smirk. "I probably have at least another week before you're well enough to properly terrify me."

"Cherish that time" says Dimitri. "Because when that week is up, things will probably get messy."

**Alright so this is not the chapter I set out to write, I had it all outlined and then this happened, (I get carried away easily) but I figured that we needed to have some happy scenes, and I am Romitri trash.**

_**Pulse**_** officially has over 300 reviews! I have to say that never in a million years did I think people would read something I wrote, but it's happening and I'm freaking out (in a good way). Thank you so much for sticking with me through this story, and thank you for your continued support and for your reviews (some of them made me tear up, you meanies). There are now actually three chapters left because I have to end the story from the right perspective.**


	28. Chapter 28

_**Vasilisa – **_

After eating my meager breakfast of a single boiled potato, I had decided to slip out of the Embassy and watch the sun chase the moon across the sky. Sunrises usually comfort me, they provide warmth and light, and bring with them the promise of a new day. The sun has barely risen across an overcast sky when I shut the heavy door of the Embassy behind me, it hangs like a glowing orb against a blanket of gray, and the pale morning is still clinging to the chill of the passing night. The cold air stings my cheeks and each breath I take is marked by a puff of smoke.

I hadn't bothered changing out of Rose's jumpsuit which is made of a durable material, but despite its design, it's a poor insulator and I can feel the cold seep into my bones. I fold my arms across my body, my numb fingers finding warmth in the crooks of my arm, and make my way down a narrow dirt lane behind the Embassy. Piles of crumbling rock and overgrown weeds mark the path, and parts of it are completely overgrown. Everywhere there is a mixture of gray and green and brown, bits of life mixing with bits of destruction. I wonder what life at this compound had been like before the RPD investigation, I think about what kind of people had lived here, and how they might have loved each other.

I stop abruptly in front of a poorly constructed wooden fence that stretches out in both directions. The boards cling to each other, held together with rusted nails and bits of fraying ropes. The fence sways with each gust of wind, causing the planks to creak in a haunting lullaby. I peer between the slats, running my hands along the splintered wood, but the only thing I can see are patches of grass and dirt. I glance from left to right, searching for a gate or a gap in the fence large enough for me to slip through. My eyes eventually fall on a set of metal hinges and an iron latch a little further down. I pull on the latch, but it doesn't budge and my hands come away covered with flakes of rusted metal. Most of the compounds in NAAMA are essentially the same, but we don't have anything like this back home.

_It's not home any more. _

My curiosity gets the best of me, and after glancing in both directions to make sure no one is around to see me disturb the peace, I throw the full weight of my body against the gate. Having grossly overestimated the structural integrity of the gate, both it and myself crash to the ground with a thud. The fall should have at least stung, but I don't feel a thing, I'm too distracted by the scene laid out before me.

There are tall patches of grass and weeds in every direction, but the overgrowth isn't what sends my heart into overdrive. Mounds of hewn rock have been arranged in rows and columns, and each is marked with tiny script. I stare at the one nearest to me; it stands only a foot away from where I lay sprawled out on the toppled gate. The numbers, _11042021, _have been crudely carved into it. I stare at the numbers intently, and suck in a breath of cool air when I figure out that the numbers are referring to a date. I clamber to my feet and rush over to the next stone.

_11042021…_

And then the next stone.

_11042021…_

Each stone bares the same date, and it doesn't take me long to realize that I am standing on the graves of the people who had once lived here. I sink to my knees in front of the nearest stone, the numbers blurring together as tears fill my eyes.

Who had been buried here? Men and women? Children and families? An entire village lies beneath me, with nothing to mark their existence, save for these lumps of rock. Had their deaths been quick? Had they been mourned? A million questions swirl within me, but they slip away after a few moments, replaced by a rush of anger and sadness.

Mikhail had said that the teachers here had strayed from NAAMA approved curriculum, that the citizens were learning. I realize that if any other investigator had been sent to apprehend Victor, our compound would have met a similar fate. It could just have easily been Adrian or Dimitri buried in the cold, hard earth. Rose's presence in my life had turned it upside down, but she had saved it in the process.

"Lissa?" a voice calls from behind me.

I quickly wipe the tears from eyes and turn to see Rose, standing in the gap I created in the fence. Her dark hair is still matted with dirt and blood, her skin marred with yellowing bruises and scrapes. She is paler and thinner than when I had first met her, and her dark eyes, eyes that used to light up with a fiery determination, are wide and haunted.

"How is your shoulder?" I ask getting hastily to my feet.

Dimitri must have constructed another sling because her left arm lays cradled against her chest, held up by strips of cloth and bandages. I brace myself for the answer, scared of what she'll say. The damage to her shoulder had been extensive to begin with, and I can only imagine what the impact of our escape would eventually amount to.

Her lips form a tight smile. "Hurts like hell, but I'm alive," she pauses for a brief moment, and her voice gets softer, "And I have you to thank for that."

"No," I say shaking my head, "We wouldn't have made it out of there alive if you hadn't done what you did."

She takes a few steps toward me, but stops in front of a grave marker. Her eyes narrow as she studies the inscription and I watch the cycle of emotions play out across her face; confusion, realization, anguish, outrage…

Her eyes flicker between me and the gravestone. "Are these…?"

I swallow hard and nod. "They're all dead."

Rose kneels in front of the stone, running her hand across it and tracing the numbers with the tips of her fingers. I stride over and crouch beside her. "How many people do you think have died since the Pulse?" she whispers.

"I don't know," I tell her simply. "Who knows how many people even survived it to begin with."

She draws back her hand, "I hate this," she growls under her breath. "I hate the Pulse, and I hate that instead of moving forward, we let Ozera push us back. I hate that we've lost so much, and sacrificed so much, but still live in a world where people can be slaughtered for what they know." Her fist clenches and unclenches in her lap. "There is so much hate; I'm filled with it, fueled by it even."

"Hate can be a pretty strong motivator," I say bleakly.

"Do you hate Victor?" she asks, her eyes darting away from mine.

A cold hand wraps itself around my heart. "I want to hate him…for what he did to my parents, for what he did to you…but I don't know if I do"

She flinches. "Is that why you didn't shoot him?"

"I did shoot him," I say defensively. "I just…missed."

She holds out her hand, "Give me the gun."

I stare at her with my mouth hanging open, but eventually recover from the initial shock of her request. "Why?"

"I want to show you something," she says, her good hand still extended toward me.

I remove the gun from its resting place in my pocket and place it gingerly in her hand. She begins disassembling the gun, and even with only one hand, she does so quickly and methodically. The metal parts lay sprawled out on the grass in front of her, and she selects a small cylindrical object and holds it in front of me.

"This," she says, her eyes narrowing as she studies it. "Is a fire-control system. It's meant to assist the shooter with hitting their target; it improves the accuracy of even the most inexperienced shooters exponentially. You were standing ten yards away, missing should have been impossible."

She mentions something else about a computer and a radar, but my mind is no longer in the present. I let myself fall away and conjure the image of Victor with a knife to Rose's throat, and remember the way the gun had felt in my hand. I had been shaking violently, but I had somehow managed to draw the gun from my pocket and point it at the man who raised me. I knew what shooting him would mean, and I had pulled the trigger anyways. I had every intention of killing him, but I hadn't.

"I wanted to shoot him," I admit. "Maybe a part of me knew that I couldn't do it though, and pulled to the side at the last second."

"You did the right thing," she tells me firmly. "Taking a life…it changes you, even when everyone around you is convinced that it was done for the right reasons, but is there really such thing as a _right_ reason? And who are we to determine what that reason is, what qualifies as right and wrong? Victor is a bad man, who has done bad things…" Her voice trails off.

"Rose?" I ask concernedly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she says evasively. She yanks a blade of grass out of the ground and starts examining it.

"He was in the jeep with you," I say, thinking back to yesterday. "He must have known we would try and escape."

"He sold us out to the Provincial Guard, even convinced them to let him interrogate me."

"He did what?" I ask, trying not to let my voice tremble.

"He wanted to know where you were, what you were planning," she says absentmindedly, her eyes focusing on the blade of grass. "His approach was all wrong though, he showed his hand too quickly, and skipped the whole good cop thing and went straight for the bad cop."

I furrow my brows in confusion, "Bad cop?"

"Never mind," she says, releasing the grass and letting it flutter to the ground.

I chew on my lip, trying to choose my words carefully. "You sound like you have a lot of experience with that sort of thing."

She lets out a humorless laugh. "You could say that."

"Rose," I say, wringing my hands together nervously. "When I was stitching you up, I noticed…well, you have a lot of scars. They're everywhere, your back and your arms…"

This time she rips a handful of grass from the ground. "My education was very hands on." She sprinkles the grass onto her lap.

A tiny gasp of horror escapes my mouth. "You mean _they_ did this to you? Your instructors?"

"My classmates actually, during our study of interrogation techniques."

I stare at her in disbelief. "Why?"

"The human condition is complex. Some of us are more resilient than others. Some of us can spit in the face of danger, and some of us cower before it. Everyone is different, but everyone has their breaking point." I sit frozen beside her, and when I don't respond, she continues. "Our instructors wanted us to understand what it meant to teeter on the edge of that breaking point, so that when the time came, we would know how to push others beyond it." Her tone and expression are completely neutral, but the rest of her is shaking.

"So they tortured you?" I asked through gritted teeth. "Rose…I'm…I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," she says bitterly. "I wasn't completely blameless. For every scar on my back, I dealt out three others just like it. I was good at it…I was the best."

Rose squeezes her eyes shut, her whole face contorting with guilt and misery. Instead of wearing her heart on her sleeve, she wears regret. I reach out for her hand, tentatively at first, and then with more resolve. I take it in my own and squeeze it reassuringly. Her eyes don't open, but a single tear manages to escape and it slides down her cheek.

"You aren't that person anymore," I tell her, my tone urgent.

"How can you say that?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. "You hardly know me." She slips her hand out of mine and brushes the grass from her lap.

"Maybe that's true," I concede.

"It is true," she says bluntly.

"Fine, we hardly know each other, but I can see you."

She turns her head, an almost amused look on her face. "I'm relieved to know your eyes are working properly."

"That's not what I mean," I tell her, rolling my eyes. "I see you, I see the person you really are, and I see the person you're trying to be. I see it, because I deal with the same thing every day."

She tilts her head to the side and stares at me curiously. "Deal with what?"

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Trying to figure out what kind of person I am, being at war with the way I am and the way I want to be."

"Victor was right," she says, her eyes returning to the headstone.

"Right about what?" I ask, scared what the answer might be.

"He once told me that I was drawn to you because I thought we were the same. He said: '_You want to see your own struggle mirrored in another human being. You've been alone all of your life, desperately searching for someone to understand you, and you think that that person is Vasilisa.' _I didn't take him seriously, but now…I don't know, maybe he was right." She runs a hand through her hair in frustration, "It's kind of annoying actually, how perceptive he is."

A small, sad smile spreads across my face. "He's brilliant, and I think that maybe his intentions were good, but his execution was just…"

"Ruthless?" she offers.

I grimace, "Yes."

"What were his intentions?" she asks after a brief moment of silence. "You said that he was planning something."

I had yet to reveal the more intimate details of Victor's plan for me and for the Havens. Rose and Dimitri trusted me and hadn't asked why I was so desperate to leave the compound. They had never asked for an explanation and so I had never given one, until now.

"Victor believes that there are people out there, like him, intellectuals who have been gathering at the Havens since the Pulse. He said that they were capable of a rebellion, of bringing down the Executor and leading NAAMA out of the dark."

"Then why haven't they?" Rose asks incredulously.

"He said they were waiting for a catalyst, someone to motivate them to act."

"Him?" she asks, the disgust evident in her tone.

I fix my eyes on a point on the ground. "Me."

"You?"

"Me," I repeat, nodding my head up and down. "He said I was special, that even when I was little he could tell that I was different – that I perceived the world differently and that people were drawn to me. He wanted to teach me to be a leader, to nurture what he called '_gifts_,' but my parents were scared. Even then, they knew how dangerous knowledge could be."

"So he had them killed," says Rose, the anger rising in her tone "And now you…what? You want to go to the Havens and be the person Victor molded you into?"

"It's not that simple," I snap, rising to my feet. "My parents _died_ so that this version of me could exist."

"So you're going to honor their memory by doing exactly what the man who murdered them wanted?" she asks, struggling to stand up herself.

"Look around," I say, gesturing to the headstones. "Look at all the death and the destruction. These people are dead because they knew too much, when does it end? When all of the light and the logic gets sucked from the world like a vacuum? When do we get to stop paying for the mistakes of the people who came before us? I won't leave _this_ world behind for the next generation; no child of mine will grow up fearing darkness because they know turning on a light is impossible," I take a breath, willing myself to remain calm. "And if that means being the best, most intelligent version of myself, and using the tools Victor gave me, then so be it."

My heart is hammering in my chest when I finish, I had finally accepted what my role would have to be in NAAMA's future. Coming to terms with my past and letting go of the life I could have had is something I hadn't known I needed to do until this moment.

Rose's expression remains impassive as she studies me carefully. "Okay," is all she says when she finally speaks.

"Okay?" I ask.

"I'm with you," she says, smiling meekly. "If you're going to save the world from stupidity, you're probably going to need my help."

**Okey dokey, a lot of dialogue, but this conversation answered a lot of questions and set up the plot for the next book. Next chapter – getting to the Havens, final chapter – a sneak peak of the Havens! Again, I am completely taken aback by your responses to this story; your reviews make me so happy and inspire me to keep writing! A sequel is on its way; make sure that you're following me so you will be alerted when the new story gets posted.**


	29. Chapter 29

_**Rose – **_

"_I'm with you. If you're going to save the world from stupidity, you're probably going to need my help."_

"That's it?" she asks incredulously. "I just spilled my guts to you! You don't have anything else to say?" She sounds almost offended and she places her hands on her hips defiantly.

I have a million things I want to say to her, but it's taking everything I have not to collapse back onto the ground. I had stood up too quickly, and now my vision is swimming and the world around me seems to sway. I close my eyes for a moment and will myself to make the dizziness go away. When I open them, I see that Lissa has taken a few steps toward me. All of the fiery determination that had been etched into her expression only moments earlier has been replaced by a look of concern.

"Rose," she says tentatively, and I can hear the pity in her tone, "Are you okay?"

I hold up one hand to ward off her advancement. "I'm – "

"Don't say fine," she says, swatting my hand away, "Because you're not. You look terrible."

I scowl at her as she moves to pull my good arm over her shoulder and then wraps her own arm around my waist. "Thanks," I grumble, looking down at my pale and trembling legs. "I was feeling really self-conscious about my appearance, but now I feel much better."

She sighs, "I'm sure Dimitri doesn't care what you look like."

My stomach sinks and I wouldn't be surprised if I looked down to see that it was lying in the dirt. "You're just putting it all out there today," I say with a nervous laugh.

She shifts her body so that she is bearing most of my weight and I let myself sag against her. "We don't have to talk about…_that_, if you don't want to." She says as we begin to make our way out of the tiny cemetery.

I hadn't notice until this moment, but Lissa is taller than I am, and I have to crane my neck to gauge her expression, and to my surprise she's smiling. "How long have you known?" I ask, turning my burning cheeks toward the ground.

"Hmmm," she muses. "I've had my suspicions since the two of you got back from the holding facility."

"What do you mean?" I ask, wondering if she had somehow known about our brief tryst before Victor had interrupted us.

She hesitates and then glances down at me. "Dimitri is a…complicated person. Even when we were little kids he was guarded; he never cried, he never had nightmares, and he was never scared of anything, until he met you."

We turn and walk down the narrow dirt lane that leads back to the Embassy, our boots kicking up dust and gravel as we go. "Was it the whole knife thing?" I ask, recalling how Dimitri and I had met. "Because I thought we had kind of moved past that."

I can feel Lissa's laugher through her sides, "No, I didn't mean that he was scared _of_ you, I meant that he was scared _for_ you."

"Oh," I say, feeling a little stupid for not realizing the point Lissa had been trying to make.

"That night," she says, her voice sounding far away. "That was the first time I had ever seen him look scared, but it was more than just fear; it was regret and grief and guilt."

I consider her words, and then all of the sudden, I'm back on the train and there's a bloody knife lying on the ground in front of me. Dimitri's eyes are wide with terror and his hands tremble as he tries to stop the bleeding. In between his rapid Russian, he begs me to stay with him. Then I'm in the front seat of a jeep and we're speeding toward the compound, Dimitri cursing as he fumbles to keep the vehicle under control. We come to a stop and he pulls me out of the jeep and into his arms. He cradles me against his chest and he runs. I can feel his heart racing even as my own grows weaker with each pulse.

I shudder and return to the present. "I didn't know it was possible for one person to feel so much."

"That's what love does to a person," she says casually.

I freeze. "Love? No…no, he doesn't love me. No, we kissed but, that doesn't mean he loves me. Love is, I don't even know what love is, but it's not…we've only known each other for a month and we spent most of that month threatening each other!"

"Rose," says Lissa exasperatedly. "Maybe neither of you is willing to admit it quite yet, but it's written all over both of your faces."

I'm saved from having to respond to Lissa's accusation when the jeep comes into view. Dimitri, Adrian, and Mikhail walk back and forth between it and the Embassy, loading in the supplies we had brought in the night before. Dimitri looks up at our approach, and thrusts the bag he had been carrying into Adrian's arms and rushes over to Lissa and me.

"Don't mind me," calls Adrian sarcastically, staggering back a few paces. "I can handle it."

"What's wrong?" he asks, his dark eyes narrowed with worry.

"Nothing," I say, pulling myself away from Lissa. "We just went for a walk."

"Really?" asks Adrian, trotting up beside Dimitri. "Because it looked like Lissa was doing most of the walking."

Lissa scowls at Adrian and then pinches his ear between her thumb and finger and begins dragging him away, "Honestly, Adrian…" she mutters under her breath.

Dimitri turns his attention away from the spectacle and asks me again, "What's wrong? And don't say nothing, I saw Lissa helping you."

"What is it with you people and not accepting my vague assurances that I'm _fine_?" I ask, running a hand through my already disheveled hair.

"Because," he says moving behind me to examine my shoulder. "As I mentioned yesterday, you are horribly stubborn." He sweeps my hair to one side, sending shivers down my spine. "How is the sling holding up?"

"It's good," I say, whirling around to face him. "Thank you."

"If your shoulder was bothering you, would you tell me?"

The image of Dimitri on the train flashes through my mind briefly, his grief-stricken face feels like it has been seared into my memory with a branding iron. He wears a similar expression now.

_Is this what Lissa had been talking about? _

_Is this what love looks like?_

"Probably not…maybe, I don't know," I say dropping my gaze, and then deciding to change the subject all together. "What's the plan?"

Dimitri studies me carefully, seeming to contemplate whether or not he'll allow me to evade his questioning of my wellbeing. "We only have half a tank of gas left. Mikhail thinks it's enough to get us past the Midwestern border."

An image of NAAMA forms in my mind, and I picture the borders of the provinces and the railways that line them. There are thousands of miles between us and the Southeastern Province. "That's not good enough," I say, shaking my head slowly. "At this rate, it will take us weeks to get to the Havens."

"If we rotate drivers we can make it there in a few days," he offers, though he doesn't sound as hopeful as his words.

"What about gas? It won't matter if we make it past the border if that's as far as we get."

Dimitri averts his eyes and I watch as his features slip into his familiar neutral expression.

I take a step forward, closing the gap between us. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Mikhail says he can get us the gasoline we'll need to make the trip."

"Great!" I say with a hint of sarcasm. "I don't suppose you're going to elaborate on the subject?"

"Hey, lovebirds," Adrian yells from behind us, interrupting an explanation I'm not sure I would have gotten. "Let's go, we're burning daylight!"

Dimitri and I turn to Adrian and give him matching glares, but instead of shrinking back, the sides of Adrian's lips quirk up in a devilish grin.

I clench and unclench my fist, "Is it too late to leave him tied up on the side of the road?"

This earns me one of Dimitri's rare smiles. "Probably, I think even then he would find a way to follow us to the Havens. He's surprisingly resilient."

"Yeah, well, so are cockroaches."

…

An hour later, I find myself sitting in the passenger's seat of the jeep, much to my annoyance. I had insisted that I be the one to drive, but Dimitri had refused to let me – claiming that I needed to rest. Even after I had told him that I could drive better with one arm than any of them could with two, he still hadn't budged. Both he and Lissa are convinced that I am a fragile daisy who needs to be tended to with a gentle hand. I get the distinct feeling that they plan on babying me all the way to the Havens.

I sit slumped in the seat with my forehead pressed to the window, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my shoulder. I also try not to think about the fact that I have been unable to move my left pinky or ring finger since I woke up this morning. Both fingers lay curled against my palm and the only thing that let's me know they are still attached to my body is the feeling of pins and needles running through them constantly.

I grit my teeth and force myself to concentrate on the trees that line the dirt roads. After a few miles, the lush foliage seems to blur together into nothing but shades of green and brown. My breath fogs the glass and I use my working fingers to draw on it.

"Well that's kind of morbid," says Adrian from the seat behind me. His hands grip my seat and his face is pressed in between the sides of the jeep and the headrest.

I pull away to look at my work and realize that what I had intended to be a smiley face looks more like a skull. "Whatever," I say, wiping away my creation. "How much further to the border?"

Mikhail sits in the backseat between Lissa and Adrian with a map of NAAMA spread out across his lap. "At this rate?" he asks, glancing down at the watch I had given him. "Three hours."

I lean over the center console to get a better look at the fuel gauge and see that we have less than one-third of a tank left. "Now would be a good time for one of you to explain how we're going to make it there." I watch as Adrian, Lissa, and Mikhail exchange apprehensive looks.

"The Provincial Guard has blockades and encampments set up along all of the borders," says Dimitri matter-of-factly.

"I know," I say, furrowing my brow, "But they're not the only ones. The RPD and other military branches all have some sort of presence on the borders."

"Right," says Mikhail, "But the Midwestern province has the lowest population density in NAAMA, so the military presence isn't as concentrated here as it is in other areas like the Northeastern or the Southwestern provinces."

"What's your point?"

"Less soldiers means less trouble when we rob them blind," says Adrian bluntly.

"Adrian," Lissa snaps, reaching across Mikhail to smack him in the arm.

"Lissa," he says mockingly, rubbing the red spot on his arm. "You're so violent today. Besides, she was going to find out some time, might as well be right now."

"Find out what?" I ask. "That when left alone for an hour, the four of you have come up with some ridiculous scheme that involves stealing from the Provincial Guard and getting us all killed?"

Adrian scoffs, "Well do you have a better idea?"

I fight the urge to twist around in my seat and smack him myself; instead I remain firmly planted in my seat when I realize that I _don't_ have a better idea.

"No," I admit, "But the only reason I can think of for not being brought into the loop is that you all plan on making me wait in the car."

"Rose," starts Dimitri. "You need to let yourself heal, you lost a lot of blood over the past few days, and your stitches aren't even a day old."

"So?" I grumble. "This is hardly the worst injury I've ever sustained."

_Lie. _

"I feel fine."

_Another lie. _

"I can barely feel a thing."

_Not technically a lie_, it's true that I can't feel parts of my arm.

"It doesn't matter," says Dimitri shaking his head. "Besides, someone needs to watch the jeep."

"And who's going to watch you?"

Dimitri glances at me out of the corner of his eye. "Mikhail and Lissa are coming with me."

"Why does she get to go?" I ask, trying not to sound wounded.

"She has the uniform," replies Dimitri simply.

"I would go," offers Adrian. "But the uniform isn't my size…not really my color either."

I somehow manage to ignore Adrian. "So your plan is to just stroll into the blockade and take what you need?" I ask, my words dripping with doubt and incredulity. "Did you forget what happened the last time we tried to do that exact thing?"

"No," he says darkly. "I didn't forget, but just like last time, we don't really have a choice."

A heavy silence falls over everyone, and no one speaks for the next three hours. We stop a few miles from the border and have a late lunch of canned beans and dried meat. Dimitri sits beside me on an overturned log, staring at the map of NAAMA.

"You should leave Adrian and me here," I say, breaking him from his reverie.

"Why?" he asks, blinking back his surprise.

I take a deep breath. "You can't just walk up to the blockade on foot, it will look suspicious. Take the jeep, but leave the supplies. You should drive through here," I say, pointing to a spot on the map, "And circle back around, then it will seem like you're passing through the border from the opposite direction."

"That way we won't raise suspicions when we come back for you and Adrian?" he asks, seeming to puzzle together my plan.

"That, and if the Provincial Guard are looking for you, and I think that they are, they won't expect you to be trying to reenter the province. Then we can cross over through here again, and meet back up with the main road in the Mideastern Province." I trace a path on the map with my good hand, and watch Dimitri's eyes follow along.

"That should work," he says, nodding his head and then turning to meet my gaze. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"I get it," I say, raking a hand through my hair. "I wouldn't want to try to convince me to stay behind either."

He studies me carefully; his dark eyes look lighter in the late afternoon sun. "You understand why I need you to stay here though, right?"

"I do," I say, averting my eyes. "My injury makes me a liability, and someone needs to baby-sit Adrian."

Dimitri chuckles softly under his breath. "It's more than that," he says, growing more serious. "I need you to be safe. I won't be able to concentrate on anything if I think there's a chance that you might be in danger."

I've always known why the military discourages romantic feelings. We have been desensitized: raised to be unfeeling and unflinching. Love makes us vulnerable, those who love are easier to hurt – easier to control. I find myself wondering how many wars had been fought, how many people had died, all because some fool somewhere had dared to love.

I reach out my arm and squeeze his hand. "Don't worry about me, I can handle myself."

He tries to smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Easier said than done."

…

We spend the next thirty minutes discussing my newly formulated plan with the others. We do our best to account for anything that might go wrong, which seems pointless when I consider how many things _could_ go wrong. After the jeep has been unloaded, Mikhail climbs into the driver's seat. Lissa sits in the seat directly behind him, looking pale and nervous. Adrian has taken it upon himself to reorganize our packs, and he sits with our supplies spread out before him on the grass.

I grab Dimitri's hand and lead him away from the camp. "One last thing," I say, turning to face him.

"Ah," he says knowingly. "I was wondering when we would be having this conversation."

"What conversation?" I ask, my heart racing.

"The one where you tell me not to come back for you if we run intro trouble."

"Glad we're on the same page then," I say flatly.

He reaches out both hands to cup my cheeks, tilting my head back so that our eyes are locked on each other. "I left you once," he says, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I won't do it again."

My nerves are on fire, and for a brief moment, the feel of his hands on my skin makes me forget where we are. He leans down and presses his lips to my forehead. I close my eyes and try to commit the feel of him to memory. He murmurs something to me in Russian, his breath sending shivers down my spine, and then pulls away.

"Be careful," I say softly.

He nods, his mouth opening and then closing, as if he had been about to speak but had changed his mind at the last second. I watch him walk away, allowing my expression to reflect the inner turmoil that swirls within me, but only because I know he can't see me.

He climbs in next to Lissa. I had told them that soldiers consider themselves to be superior to Provincial Guards, and would hardly acknowledge someone of Mikhail's station as anything more than a driver. Lissa and Dimitri cast anxious looks over their shoulders at me, and I try to offer them a reassuring nod, but Mikhail has driven away before it can be acknowledged.

…

I spend the next few hours doing my best to ignore Adrian as he attempts to question me about my upbringing. I lay on the soft grass, staring at the sun intently with my good arm beneath my head.

"What about nunchucks?" he asks, leaning over me to make sure I'm listening.

"Yes," I say, not bothering to mask my annoyance.

"You could kill me with nunchucks?" he asks, sounding both surprised and afraid.

I glare at him, "I could kill you while wearing a dress, a blindfold, and with both arms tied behind my back."

His head moves to blot out the sun. "And if that didn't work, you could always use that withering stare of yours."

"If looks could kill," I say narrowing my eyes. "My weapon of choice would be staring."

"You're mental," he says, moving to lie down beside me.

"What are you doing?" I ask, shifting away from him.

"Don't flatter yourself," he says, nestling himself in the grass. "I prefer blondes."

"Like Lissa?" I'm not sure why I ask, but the question slips out.

He props himself up on his elbows to glower at me, "That is disgusting…it's practically incest!" he proclaims dramatically.

"Has Lissa ever…" I chew on my lip, trying to find the right words.

"Been in love with anyone?" he offers.

"Sure."

"There was this one guy, Aaron. He used to follow her around, and she eventually caved and they dated for a few months."

"Uh," I say, struggling to sit up. "_Dated_?"

Adrian looks confused and he raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me. "Yeah…dating, you know – holding hands and going on dates and calling each other honeybun."

"Why would anyone want to be compared to food? And what does that have to do with dates? Are you referring to the numbers…or the weird little fruit?"

His jaw drops open, and then he breaks out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "Are you serious?" he eventually asks, wiping the tears from is eyes.

I feel my cheeks flush, "Never mind."

"Wait," he says in between labored breaths. "Oh my god, you are serious. No wonder you and Dimitri look like wide-eyed goldfish whenever you get within ten feet of each other." His eyes open as wide as he can manage and he purses his lips together, moving them up and down while making strange gulping noises.

"Shut up," I growl, ripping out a handful of grass and throwing it in his face.

"This is awesome," he says, folding his hands behind his head and returning to the ground. "Honeybun is a term of endearment, it's like calling someone sweetie. Does that make sense?"

_No._

"Yes."

"You have much to learn," he tells me, feigning wisdom.

I see a group of birds burst through the tree line in the distance, cawing and flying out in all directions.

"There are candlelit dinners, awkwardly kissing good night…"

"Adrian, shut up," I hiss.

"I'm just trying to he-"

I clamp my hand over his mouth. "Stop talking and follow me."

Adrian must have sensed the urgency in my tone and the seriousness of my expression because he rises from the ground without another word. We make our way into the surrounding brush and lower ourselves behind the branches. Our hiding spot gives us a good view of our camp, but offers little else in the way of vantage points.

In the distance I can hear a low rumbling sound, but the birds seem to have disappeared. I concentrate on my breath, and force the rest of the world to fall away. This way, I can concentrate on nothing but the noises that surround us. Or I would have been able to, if Adrian didn't insist on interrupting me.

"What is it?" he whispers.

I let out a long, exasperated sigh, and ignore him. The sound is closer now, but the source is in the opposite direction that Dimitri and the others should be coming from. The jeep appears suddenly, roaring into the clearing and screeching to a halt. Adrian moves to leap out of the bushes, but I yank him back down before he can give away our position.

I wait until Dimitri and the others climb out of the vehicle. As soon as I have confirmed that they are alone, Adrian and I rush forward to greet them.

"What happened?" I demand, aiming my question at the group. "You were supposed to circle back and come from that way." I point behind them for emphasis.

"The Province is locked down," says Lissa darkly. "Nobody goes in or out. If we hadn't circled around and came from the outside like you said, we would have never made it out. They just gave us the supplies and sent us away."

I don't bother masking my surprise, "They what?"

"We can talk about this later, what matters is that we have enough food and gas to last us another week," interjects Dimitri. "We need to leave."

Together, the five of us are able to load up the jeep in less than five minutes. Mikhail climbs back into the driver's seat and Adrian, after yelling shotgun, dives into the passenger's seat.

Once we're back on the road, I'm able to pry the rest of the details out of Dimitri and Lissa. The Midwestern province has been locked down. The Provincial Guard had been vague as to why that was, but Mikhail assumed it had something to do with the missing fugitives. They had been so eager to keep anyone from sticking around to ask any questions, that they had sent Lissa, Dimitri, and Mikhail away with everything that they had asked for.

"We got lucky," I say after Dimitri finishes the story. "Something like that won't happen again."

Dimitri sits beside me in the backseat of the jeep and he squeezes my knee reassuringly. "We have no reason to have to try something like again. By this time next week, we'll be at the Havens."

…

Dimitri had been off on his count by one day. We ran out of gas as soon as we passed the border into the Southeastern Province. By the time we had made the 46 mile trek into the former state of Florida, we were nearly out of food. I had had a week to recover from my injuries, but the poor conditions of our journey had taken its toll. My stitches are healing, but my arm has not regained any of its former strength and my range of motion is severely limited. I had spent the week insisting that I felt stronger everyday, and find that I am thankful that I'm a skilled liar.

We decide to follow the old highways that had been used for travel before the Pulse, and eventually we pass a sign that says we have entered Leon County.

"We're almost there," says Mikhail, trying to lift everyone's spirits.

Adrian grunts in acknowledgement, but the rest of us are too exhausted to respond. Everyone wears the same forlorn, sunken expression. Lissa's skin is stretched across her bones, and she is all sharp angles and wide planes. Dimitri, Mikhail, and Adrian look thinner, but have maintained most of their muscle mass. I'm grateful to have not seen my reflection in over a week. It's hard enough to feel myself deteriorating; I'd rather not watch it happen too.

We walk for miles, and each step gets harder for me to take. I do my best to keep the pain from invading my expression, knowing that Dimitri would force us to take a break if he thought that the trek was too much for me.

The sun is beginning to sink on the ninth day when we finally see the remnants of a city looming in the distance. Our group heaves a collective sigh of relief. I would smile, but even that would require too much energy, energy I know I don't have.

We keep walking, and the idea that we might sleep under an actual roof tonight drives me forward. I try not to consider what will happen if we don't find anything, instead I think about putting one foot in front of the other.

The sun has disappeared completely by the time we reach the outskirts of the city, and we group together to discuss our next move.

"Adrian, Mikhail, and I should go ahead to scout out the city," says Dimitri in a low whisper. "Just in case."

I can barely make out his features in the darkness, but I can picture the hard lines of his face and the way they would be set in determination. "Okay," I concede, too drained to argue. "Lissa and I can find a place to hide until you get back."

…

We make our way further into the city before splitting up. The roads are clustered with abandoned vehicles and buses, some are even pushed onto the cracked sidewalks and we are forced to weave our way in and out of the piles of twisted metal. After the Pulse, most of the major cities had been abandoned, the damage was too extensive and we didn't have the resources to rebuild them.

Executor Ozera feared the ruins of the old world; she feared that they could hold the key to intelligence and information she had worked so hard to eradicate. Ozera had burned many of the more advanced cities to the ground even after the Pulse had done its damage.

Tallahassee had somehow managed to escape the fate that had fallen on places like Seattle and Chicago, and as I look around at the crumbling buildings and the narrow streets, I realize that it must have been because she deemed it too small to be a threat.

Dimitri comes to a halt outside of a dilapidated looking gray building. There are boards covering most of the windows, and only shattered glass remains of the ones that aren't blocked. The door is marred by scorch marks, and the knob is missing. Mikhail glances in both directions and then kicks the door down with the heel of his boot. Dimitri gestures for Lissa and me to go inside, but I find myself hesitating.

"Maybe we shouldn't split up," I say in a low voice.

"Rose," Dimitri says, placing his hands on my shoulders. "You have to rest. We're just going to do some exploring and then we'll be right back."

"Twenty minutes," I say firmly. "Be back in twenty minutes."

He squeezes my shoulders, "Twenty minutes."

Lissa and I take what remains of our meager supplies and make our way into the building. I feel Lissa grip my wrist so that we aren't separated in the dark. She holds her other hand out in front of her, groping for something to sit on.

"This way," I say, pulling her toward one of the windows that still provides a view.

We move to stand in front of it, but the night has practically swallowed the streets of Tallahassee whole and the only thing we can see are shapes.

One of the shapes moves.

Lissa's hold tightens. "Rose," she breathes. "What was that?"

My blood has turned to ice in my veins.

More moving shapes.

"We shouldn't have split up," I say, my voice nearly inaudible.

Lissa screams, but before I can react, I feel my legs crumple beneath me and I sink to the floor. Someone has thrown a sac over my head, and my sharp intake of breath pulls the fabric into my mouth and I feel like I'm suffocating. I struggle to stand, but I'm too weak. My eyes are open, but all I can see is black. I feel my lids flutter shut, and I let the black drag me under.

**I think a part of me didn't want this story to end, because writing it was so hard. Every time I started to write, I would just delete my words and start over. Hopefully it turned out well. Also, I'm starting law school in August so I'm not really sure what kind of time I'll have for writing. The goal for right now is to finish **_**Pulse**_**, then my other fic, **_**To Forgive and Forget**_**, and then start posting **_**Haven**_** before my classes start. I'm not sure how realistic any of that is, but we shall see, for now, just nag me until I start writing.**


	30. Chapter 30

**_Lissa – _**

"What do we do with her?" I hear a voice whisper from my left.

My arms have been secured behind my back with metal cuffs, and a thick piece of inky cloth has been tied across my eyes. The only images that escape my blindfold are flashes of light and shadow.

"You know the law, outsiders are to be brought before the council – no exceptions," a second, much deeper voice answers.

Each of my captors has a firm hold on my arms and they use their grip to control me, and to lead me to some unknown destination.

"Look at her," the first person hisses. "She's an investigator; I ought to hang her with that red belt of hers." Their fingers dig into my forearm and their nails pierce my skin, drawing blood.

I feel my heart beat begin to pick up speed, and my chest tightens with every word. I'm still wearing Rose's uniform; they think I'm with the Risk Prevention Department. It's obvious from their hushed whispers and disgusted tones that neither of them considers me to be friendly.

_Stupid…so stupid, how could I have not seen this coming?_

"All the more reason to bring her before the council," chastises the first voice.

"It's late; the council won't be ready to convene until tomorrow morning at the earliest."

The person on my left takes a sharp turn "I sent Oz ahead to raise the alarm, it's not everyday a group of soldiers show up in Portum Lux."

"Christ, will you keep that to yourself?" the second voice snaps.

We come to an abrupt halt and I hear a whirring noise and then the sound of metal sliding against metal.

"Watch your step," the first voice warns before shoving me forward. "And who cares what she hears? She'll probably be dead by morning anyways."

I move blindly down a set of steep stairs, and it takes everything in me not to stumble. A part of me wants to throw myself the rest of the way down and hope that it kills me.

"What about the civy? Do you think they'll kill her too?" inquires the second voice.

"Did you see her arm? She's damaged goods," states the first voice, his tone devoid of emotion. "If it's permanent they might just exile her. The humane thing would be to put her out of her misery."

The mention of Rose causes me to lose my footing, and my feet fly out from underneath me. I come down hard on my knees, but luckily – or maybe not, I had reached the bottom step and I avoid falling to my death.

One of my captors laughs and then yanks me to my feet, "Are you sure she's RPD? She's not very coordinated."

The second voice doesn't respond and I feel myself being ushered forward once more. Only this time, I plant my feet firmly on the ground and refuse to budge.

"Where is she?" I rasp, and my throat feels like it has been coated with gravel.

"Where is who?" the first voice mocks and pulls hard on my arm. I stumble forward a few steps before I recover enough to fight against his hold again.

"Ro – the girl!" I snap, realizing that I had almost given Rose away.

"Ro is it?" asks the voice before throwing me over his shoulder like a sac of potatoes. "You'll see her soon enough."

I struggle for a few moments, but the lack of food coupled with my extreme fatigue makes it pointless. My captor has a broad back and thickly muscled shoulders and I feel like a rag doll compared to him.

We make the rest of the journey in silence, and I do my best to count the steps and memorize the twists and turns, but my mind is clouded with images of Dimitri, Mikhail, and Adrian lying dead in the streets somewhere. I hope that the boys had somehow managed to escape, but I know that it's more likely that even if they had escaped for now, they would eventually come looking for Rose and me.

I hear the sound of a door opening, and even through my blindfold I can see that I am surrounded by blinding light. My ears are filled with the sounds of murmuring, some are arguing while others seem to be excited.

The man throws me onto the floor unceremoniously, and I land on the ground with a thud.

"Is that necessary?" a cool, feminine voice calls from somewhere in front of me.

I feel myself being pulled to my feet by my captor for a second time. "She's fine, see?"

"Oz said you found one of _them,_" she sneers. "I almost didn't believe him."

"Your confidence in me is inspiring," a sarcastic voice chides.

"Can you blame her?"

"That will be all," the woman commands before either of my captors can respond. "Wait, take the blindfold."

Someone curses from behind me and then a hand moves to rip away the cloth. I am instantly blinded by the light. It takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust, and I gasp when the world around me finally comes into focus. I am standing in the center of a circular room, and all around me are raised platforms, filled with benches that hold chattering onlookers. The walls are a smooth paneled wood, and above me are hundreds of light bulbs, all held together with polished metal and crystal.

"What's your name?" the woman asks, pulling my attention away from the light source.

My head snaps forward and I find myself staring at an old woman. Her hair is white and the corners of her mouth and eyes seem to be permanently creased with worry. Despite her age, the planes of her face and the angles of her nose and chin make her look lethal. She sits at the center of a marble table, and to her left and right are more severe looking men and women. Each of them stares at me with blatant disgust, but one man catches my eye. He has jet black hair and icy blue eyes that seem to sparkle under the glow of the flameless light. He is studying me intently, but displays none of the horror and distrust that his counterparts do.

"Don't answer!" a familiar voice shouts from behind me.

"What did I say about keeping her quiet?" the old woman thunders.

I whirl around and practically sag with horror and relief when I see Rose standing a few feet behind me with a sac tossed over her head.

"She's pretty strong for a civy," says a woman standing with her arm wrapped around Rose's neck.

Rose's arm remains tucked safely in its sling, but the other is pinned behind her back. I watch as she squirms against the woman's hold. "Don't tell them anything!" she yells again.

The old woman utters something under her breath, and then speaks so that her voice rings across the expanses of the room. "Let her go. Look at her, she's just an injured civilian."

I fight the urge to smile viciously at the old woman's mistake. Rose might be injured, but she is no civilian.

Rose is released and then shoved forward. I rush to her and try to catch her fall, but my arms are still restrained and instead we bump into each other clumsily. She curses loudly and then jerks the sac off of her head. Unlike me, Rose wastes no time staring at the walls or the lights, instead she tugs at my side and pulls me behind her protectively.

"Who are you?" she barks.

The white-haired woman eyes Rose, her face twisted with a mixture of pity and amusement. "My name is Tatiana," she says with inherent superiority. "And you are?"

Rose doesn't speak and I can see where beads of sweat have formed on the back of her neck. Her posture radiates strength and conviction, but I know that she is at the end of her rope.

"If I may," the boy with the black hair says, rising to his feet. "I can answer that."

Rose turns to look at the boy, and she staggers backward at the sight of him. "No," she whispers, her voice straining to find the right words. "No, no, no…" she mutters over and over again, pushing me to the back of the room as she does.

The boy smiles at Rose knowingly, and there is recognition written all over his face. He steps around the marble table and strides toward us. The closer he comes, the harder Rose shakes.

"Rose," I breath. "Do you know him?"

She turns her head to look at me, and I feel my heart sink at the sight of her expression. All the light has been extinguished in her eyes. She is biting down so strongly on her lip that it has begun to bleed and blood dribbles down her chin like little crimson tears. She stares at me, but doesn't seem to see me. I want to reach out and hold her, or shake her, anything, but my arms remain secured behind my back.

"Her name," the boys continue, and his arrogance grates on my nerves like rusted nails, "Is Rosemarie Hathaway, and she is not a civilian."

The room lets out a collective gasp and the boy grins triumphantly, seeming to have been satisfied with the crowd's reaction.

"Who is he?" I ask, moving in front of her, trying desperately to get her attention.

Her eyes have watered over and the brown depths are blurred with tears. "Christian Ozera."

**Thank you all so much for sticking with me through this little adventure! Make sure you're following me so that when the next installment goes up you'll get the alert. Until then, I would love to hear your predictions! What was your favorite scene? Whose your favorite character? I have a million questions for you guys, and if you have any for me, leave me a review or message me privately! See ya soon!**


	31. Chapter 31

Surprise! _Haven_ is up. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!111


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